Second Chance
by ArixaBell
Summary: It's twenty years after the devastating end of the third world war, when many countries were destroyed. The surviving nations are surprised to discover those that were lost, reborn as humans. USUK main, Spamano, mentions of various other pairings
1. Chapter 1

_It's twenty years after the devastating end of the third world war, when many countries were destroyed. The surviving nations are surprised to discover those that were lost, reborn as humans._

_For the sake of this story, let's assume that the nations have never had additional human names before._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

It was Friday night, and that meant one thing: movie night for a pair of best friends and college roommates. They had met their freshman year of high school, drawn together by curiosity as well as their shared heritage: both were native-born Canadians, yes, but both were the sons of parents from countries that no longer existed, who had fled during the war. Even their parents had become friends, sharing terrifying stories of watching their homelands die...

It was amazing how many others like themselves they had met since starting college.

"I don't know why I always let you choose the movie," the petite Asian man sighed.

"Because I pick good ones, Kiku!"

"You pick movies that _scare_ you, Alfred-kun." Kiku had grown up bilingual, his parents refusing to let their Japanese culture die along with their country. His best friend found the honorifics adorable, so he continued to use them.

"I am _so_ not scared!" Alfred hit play, and picked up a bag of chips. His own family had not had as far to flee, nor as much of a culture shock, originating from the USA. He had read about the States. It sounded pretty awesome.

"You are."

"Nuh uh!" The tall young man tugged hard on the bag, managing to get it open as well as send chips flying. "Oops."

Kiku picked a chip out of his hair. "So what if I told you I was staying the night elsewhere?"

"Uh..." Alfred froze. "You're not, are you?"

"No. But the thought scared you."

"Shut up!" He crammed some chips into his mouth and focused on the movie that was starting. As the night wore on, Kiku couldn't help but notice his friend scoot ever closer. It was how their movie nights always worked out. It baffled him that Alfred only liked to choose movies that creeped him out, but he had long since grown used to it.

"S-so. Whatcha doing tomorrow?" Alfred asked, peeking at the movie through his fingers.

"Going home for the weekend."

"Oh, that's right."

"And you?"

"I have a date." He gave Kiku a winning smile, lowering his hands. "A lunch date."

"Ahh. With whom?"

"Beats me. It's a _blind_ date. Antonio's setting me up with someone."

"Guy or girl?"

"Girl this time." Alfred tended to prefer boys, but he wasn't all that picky, really.

"Maybe it's that new girl I've seen him hanging out with. Have you seen her? She has _huge_..." Kiku gestured toward his chest, cheeks tinged with pink.

"Cans?" his friend supplied, nudging him. "No, it's not Katyusha. I don't know who—_oh my God, did you see that?_" He hid his face behind his hands again.

Kiku gave Alfred an encouraging pat on the back. It was going to be another long night.

* * *

The date was not meant to be. Alfred had sat eagerly at one of the diner's outdoor tables, drumming his fingers on it as he waited, sipping at the glass of water and enjoying the beat of the summer sun on his shoulders and head. Time passed and he started to slump in his chair, rolling a salt shaker around. He kept shooing his waiter away with a "No no, she's coming," that grew less confident each time.

He was resting his head on the table by the time Antonio's call arrived to let him know his date couldn't make it. _No shit, Antonio._ Despite the disappointment, he was still _hungry_. Alfred summoned over the smirking waiter to let him know he had changed his mind, he _would_ be eating now, could he bring over a nice big burger, medium-ish please, there's a good fellow.

He finished the burger (that didn't take long at all) and was working on his fries when a newcomer to the diner caught his eye. It was a young man Alfred could _swear_ looked familiar. He didn't seem to notice he was being stared at as he weaved through the busy maze of tables seeking a place to sit. Once he did, his back was to Alfred, but that was okay. He had already figured out why he looked so familiar. Well, seeing as how he had nothing else to do and nobody else to talk to, Alfred rose and wandered that way.

"Hey, man," he said, and the stranger jumped. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

The other fellow muttered something to himself. It sounded like "That voice..."

"Here, turn around. I thought you looked..." He scooted the young man's chair around until they were face to face. "Yeah! You look just like me!" He grinned in delight. "How _cool_ is that? Are you my long-lost twin? Were you adopted? 'Cause I'm pretty sure my parents are my real parents, and...Um. Are you okay?"

His double was apparently even more shocked than he was! His mouth dropped, his eyes were wide as saucers, and his light skin seemed to grow even paler.

"Pretty shocking, huh?" Alfred agreed. "Mom never said anything about _that_. And like I was saying, I'm pretty sure they're my real parents, 'cause they resemble me, you know? And there's pictures from when I was born. Well, not _as_ I was being born, that'd be gross. But afterward, when she's holding me and stuff. But that sort of thing probably happened. It was _right_ after the war, and they were refugees, and probably couldn't afford two babies...You don't look okay. Do you need some water?" His doppelganger was just _staring_ at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost! I know this is shocking, but...You're not going to pass out on me, are you? Is the heat bothering you? Don't die or anything. I think I remember CPR." He smiled, leaning closer. "It'll be okay. I'm totally a hero."

And with that, his possible-long-lost-twin's eyes grew even wider, then he toppled out of his chair in a dead faint.

* * *

_Just a short prologue-ish chapter for now. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Is your brother okay?" one of the worried faces in the crowd asked.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Alfred waved them away, wishing the gathered throng would leave. And hoping he was telling the truth. And being kind of amused by her assumption of their relationship. He hunched over and patted the unconscious man's face again. "Hey, hey..." He sure was taking this revelation hard.

After another tense moment, he sagged in relief when dark blue eyes cracked open behind their lenses. "Ah..."

Alfred gave him a friendly smile. "Are you okay?"

"You're...still here," he mumbled.

"Of course! I wouldn't abandon you after you passed out. I'm-"

"A hero?" he finished weakly.

"Damn straight." Alfred grasped his new-found twin's hand and tugged him upright, casually brushing him off. "Oh, your hair is much nicer than mine." He saw nothing at all wrong with petting a stranger's hair. "Soft. What shampoo do you use? Oh! You know, we haven't even introduced ourselves." He stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you, new brother. I'm Alfred F. Jones."

"Uh..." The other blond gave him a confused look, then glanced around the diner. He seemed to peer at the passing waiter. Then he turned back. "Um. M-Matthew."

"Matthew!" Alfred didn't bother waiting for a last name. "Hey, you should come meet my parents some time! Our parents? Oh man, they're gonna be surprised!"

"Oh yeah?" Matthew still looked like he was ready to keel over at any second.

"Of course! Hey, when's your birthday?"

"In...in two days."

Alfred snorted. "My birthday isn't in two days. It's after that. Whoever raised you got that wrong."

"Let me guess." Matthew swallowed. "Fourth of July?"

"Yeah! How'd you know? It's pretty cool. Like the fireworks are just for me..." After the war, Canada had adopted its defeated neighbor's independence day holiday as a remembrance. "Oh! Two days? On Canada Day? That's actually awesome. We each get our own celebration. What are the odds?"

"Yeah..." Matthew shook his head. "Um. Will you still be here? I need to...do something. Call someone."

"Sure! I don't need to be anywhere. I actually came here for a date, a blind date, but it got canceled, so I don't have any plans. I'll order another burger!"

"Of course..." He ran a hand through his nicer hair. "I'll be right back." He turned to leave, tugging a phone out, then pivoted back. "Can I take a picture? Of us?"

"You bet!" Alfred shuffled up against him, posing with a big cheesy grin and thumb's up. Picture taken, Matthew turned again and ran off. "Strange kid, my brother. Handsome devil, though." Alfred returned to his own table and plopped down, beckoning his waiter back. If he'd paid more attention, he would have noticed that his waiter and his new brother shared the same name.

* * *

England set his empty teacup back onto its saucer with a porcelain clatter, then dropped onto his bed, sighing. He _hated_ this time of year. With a _passion_. He'd been doing better lately, really. None of them—least of all America—would want anyone wasting their lives moping over them. England and the other survivors were managing, rebuilding and moving on. But this time of year...he couldn't help but remember everything he had lost. As if summoned, memories flooded back into his unwilling brain.

_England watched him finish zipping up his flight suit, smile tugging at his lips. How could a baggy one-piece suit look so _good?_ "Almost ready to go?"_

"_Yup!" America flashed a thumb's up. "Come give me a kiss."_

_England obliged, hurrying forward and locking their mouths together. Worry gnawed at him, but it was a familiar old worry. They had been through this a thousand times, in several wars. Nobody could match America in the skies._

"_You're worrying," America accused, poking his lover's nose._

"_I will if I want, prat."_

"_Old man," the taller nation replied with affection.  
_

"_You're sure about this?" England's smile fell away._

_As did America's, his expression darkening. "I'm sure. Japan was my friend. I can't just..."_

"_I know. He was mine, too." England kissed him again. "Be careful."_

"_Of course!" America gave another winning smile, then turned to climb into his jet._

And that was it. The last time they had ever seen each other. England growled in annoyance at his brain for forcing him to continuously relive it. Why couldn't he have at least said "I love you"? They'd said it a million times before, but not then.

He damn near fell off the bed when the ringing phone caused him to jump. "Oh, _what?_" he muttered. The other nations rarely bothered him during those weeks unless it was an emergency. "Bloody phone, bloody caller, leave me the hell alone already..." He snatched the phone up, and managed to make his greeting polite.

"England!"

"Oh, hello, Canada." He dropped back onto the bed. "You sound distraught." There was an understatement; the other nation sounded_ frantic_. England filed that call under 'emergency' and set his moping aside.

"You _really_ need to come here soon."

Oh, that. England ran a hand down his face. "Look...I'm sorry I never make it to your birthday parties. I just don't know..."

"That's not what I mean. Though it _would_ be nice. But, um. I met someone. A human. An interesting human."

"Congratulations?"

"He was...he...I took a picture of us. I'll send it. Are you sitting down?"

England frowned. "Yeah. I'm sitting." Well this was mysterious. "Send your picture, I guess." He rummaged through his room until he located his cell phone and turned it on, then returned to the bed. Canada's message was already waiting for him. He opened it.

He stared.

He blinked.

He stared some more.

"Canada!" he said sharply into the other phone, murder in his voice and tears standing in his eyes. "I don't know what shit you're trying to pull, but it's _not funny_. You-"

"It's not a joke." Canada's voice was soft, yet still firm. "That's the human I met today. At least, he seemed pretty certain that he's human. He said his name's Alfred. And his parents were refugees during the war, and he's decided I'm his long-lost twin."

After a long, silent moment, England decided to believe him. Many things Canada was, but randomly malicious wasn't one of them. He licked his lips, staring down at the photo, heart hurting. "It's a...coincidence?"

"No!" He could hear the tears in the younger nation's voice. And Canada was not a good enough actor to pull that off believably. "I don't see how it could be! He...he _sounds_ like him. Dammit, he _acts_ like him! All in the short time we talked he mentioned heroes and burgers and other random stuff he babbled on about, and his birthday's on...the same day, and..."

"What does this mean?" England voice came out a hoarse rasp. What was happening? His mind whirled but came up empty of explanations. A human turning up, identical in looks _and _personality?

"I don't know!" Canada wailed.

"Okay, calm down." The Briton took a deep breath to calm down, himself. "Where are you? It's a big country, you know."

"I'm staying at my Vancouver house."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can. Hang onto this... Alfred?" He shook his head, lips pursed. "Who'd you tell him _you_ were? Assuming he's a human. You didn't tell him about us?"

"No. I could barely get a word in edge-wise. I said my name is Matthew."

"Matthew?"

"I saw it on a name tag. Come up with a name for yourself."

England was not in the mood for inventing human names. "Lancelot."

"What? No!"

"Fine. Arthur."

"At least that's a normal name. Okay, I'll tell him my friend Arthur wants to meet him. Will you be okay?"

"I'll try and compose myself when I meet him. I'll give you a call when my flight gets in."

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and England curled up on his bed with the picture of 'Alfred' and cried.

* * *

_Oh my god,_ Canada thought, _he even _eats_ the same._ The familiar sight of the blond, cowlicked young man attacking his burger like it was the last one on earth brought a lump to his throat. "H-hey." _Calm down, calm down. He already probably thinks I'm weird._

The boy who called himself Alfred waved, shoving the last of his food into his mouth. "Hey," he said once said mouth was free. "Talk to your friend?"

"Yes!" Canada sat across from him. It felt like just yesterday, the last time they had done this. But twenty some years _wasn't_ a very long time. "He's looking forward to meeting you. He's going to come visit. Arthur, his name is."

"You'll have to meet my best friend, too! Kiku. He's away this weekend, though."

"That'd be nice." Canada wasn't especially interested in meeting Alfred's human friends.

"I've got pictures of him!"

"You can show me later."

"And you need to meet my—our—parents! I live in the dorms, but my folks aren't far. School's just getting out for the summer, anyway, they'll be expecting me, and I can take them a surprise!"

"Ah...maybe some other time. That might be a bit much for me today." And meeting a twin of their son's whom they had no recollection of giving birth to might be a bit much for _them_.

Alfred chuckled. "Good point. You still look like you've seen a ghost."

_That's because I have!_ Canada had already dismissed the possibility of amnesia. He might have given it more consideration, had he not been there, and seen the mangled body that had been pulled from the wreckage of—_Don't think about that! _Which left...what? He had no idea. "It should be some hours until Arthur gets here. Would you like to see my place?"

"Yeah, sure." Alfred stood, then promptly dropped back down. "You never did get to order!"

"That's okay. I'll grab something at home."

As they walked to his car, Canada realized with a bitter smile that he was lucky he now kept all pictures of his brother tucked away in boxes. Alfred might have had a few questions if he had seen his face plastered all over. Alfred, meanwhile, was cooing over Canada's car, and bemoaning his lack of funds to buy one for himself.

The chatty human babbled on for the duration of the drive. At one point, he ended up talking about his parents. "They both do office work, though not in the same place, they used to live in Seattle so they didn't have to come far, it sounds like a cool place, have you ever seen pictures of the Space Needle? And there was a market you could go where they threw fish around. Hey, tell me about, you know, who raised you!"

Canada blinked. "Who raised...me?"

"Yeah!"

"Ah, well. Um, I was raised by different people at different times..."

"Oh!" Alfred's voice had a sympathetic catch to it. "You were in foster care?"

"S-sort of? Anyway, one was a raging pervert."

Alfred gasped. "Oh _God!_ No wonder you got taken away from him!"

"Er. He didn't perv on _me_." Not when he was a child, anyway. "He was a good parent. The circumstances behind my caretaker changing were complicated."

"So the second one was good? No pervertedness?"

Yes, just less blatant. "No. He was good, too."

"Good!" Alfred held up a fist. "Let me know if anybody perved on you. I'll find them and kick their ass."

Always the hero. Canada blinked back tears. "Don't worry about it, no one perved."

When they pulled into his drive, Alfred hung his head out the car window and stared. "Holy mother of—that's your _house?_"

"One of them." Wait, maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"One...of..." Alfred slowly turned back to face him, looking more shocked than when he had discovered he had a 'brother'. "You own _mansions?_ _Plural?_"

"Er..."

"_You had the best foster parents ever!_"

Canada just gave a weak smile, then stepped out of the car.

"Where else do you have houses?"

"Around Canada." And Hawaii, which was now a part of Canada, anyway. He thought of it as a gift rather than a spoil of war. _Ah, that reminds me. I should give Russia a call. He's not too far, he might want to visit..._ Russia had been given Alaska, the other state that survived. The only name he had changed was the capital Juneau, which was now New Ukraine. He spent a lot of time at his new house there.

"Damn..." Canada keyed the front door open and they stepped into the entryway, Alfred gawking around with the wonderment of a child visiting his first theme park. Until he gave a small cry and hid behind Canada.

"What?" the nation asked, alarmed. What did he have that was scary? Had he left out a picture of America? Had Alfred seen it? Had-

"Th-there's a _bear_ in your house!"

Oh.

"Um. That's a pet. He's perfectly harmless."

"A bear!?"

"Yes." Canada leaned over to pet Kumajirou. "See? He's safe."

"Who?" the bear asked him.

Alfred wiggled a finger around in his ear. "Did it just say something?"

"No."

Kumajirou turned to the newcomer next. "America!"

Alfred scratched his head. "I'd _swear_ that he-"

"No!" Canada shooed the polar bear away, hissing at him to keep quiet and stay hidden and there'd be a nice seal in it for him.

By the time he returned, Alfred had already moved on to the living room, gaping at the television. "It's so big! I bet you've got a zillion channels, too!" He helped himself to the remote to find out, flipping through the channels until stopping on...hockey?

"You want to watch hockey?"

"Are you _kidding?_" Alfred stared at the screen in awe, dropping onto the couch. "It's the best sport ever! With all these channels, you must be able to watch every hockey game that's ever played!"

"Ah..." So not everything was the same. Alfred was like America...raised Canadian.

That was actually rather cool.

"So you live alone? With your bear?"

"I'm alone, yes."

"Why do you _need_ so many houses, and so much space?"

Canada shrugged, unable to come up with a human-sounding reason. "I like it?" He turned to face Alfred, choking down another lump in his throat. How many times had they sat on that couch and argued over sports?

And then, he found his mind traveling to a certain box in his room, which contained a certain jacket, and he desperately wanted to see Alfred in it. He had spent many nights back then wondering what to do with it, whether his brother should be buried in it or not. In the end, Canada had decided rotting in the ground was no place for it, so he kept it. America wouldn't want it to rot away, either. Canada had tried to give it to England once; that had been a mistake.

"So how much longer until your friend gets here?"

Canada shook his head, banishing depressing thoughts. "A while, still. Sorry."

"It's okay! We can watch hockey! And a movie! Is that your collection?" He scooted over to the shelf, running a finger over the gleaming spines. Alfred was pretty good at making himself at home. "Let's watch this!" he said as he tugged one out.

Canada peered closer, and winced. It was one of America's movies, a ghost story he had left there because it was too scary to keep at his house. "You like that sort of thing?"

"You bet! But, um..." He looked back with a hopeful look. "I hate to invite myself over, but..."

"You want to spend the night?" Canada smiled weakly.

"Kiku always watches scary movies with me. But he's away this weekend. He's my roommate, too. Not that I _need_ to sleep with someone nearby. You know."

This Kiku sounded like a patient soul.

So they whiled away the hours watching hockey and scary movies, munching on snacks and chatting. And it was so easy to just let his mind wander and pretend it was America sitting with him, to pretend it was the pre-war days. Particularly during the movie portion, when Alfred was clinging to Canada in terror.

It couldn't be a coincidence. It just couldn't. There was no way some random human could be _this_ similar.

At last, when night had long since descended and they were both yawning, a knock came at the door. Before Canada could react, his visitor was springing to his feet and announcing that he would get it. He had _really_ made himself at home.

_Ack! England! He was supposed to call!_ Canada rushed after Alfred, but it was too late. He made it just in time to hear the human chirp, "Hi! You must be Arthur! Cool eyebrows, man!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

After the newcomer's initial scream (understandable, seeing a stranger in his friend's house would be alarming), Alfred plastered a huge grin on his face and stuck his hand out, introducing himself. He waited a moment, then let his hand fall, smile falling as well as a wave of deja vu crashed into him. _Not again... _Just like Matthew's initial reaction, there was that pale-face, wide-eyed look of 'Oh my God, you are the scariest, most shocking thing I have seen in my life!' Matthew, he could understand. He was an emotional guy, and had just met his long-lost brother! But why was some friend of his experiencing the same reaction?

It just kept getting worse. Matt hadn't _cried_. Not while Alfred could see him. Not too much, anyway. But tears were coursing their way down this Arthur fellow's cheeks, and Alfred was starting to feel a wee bit uncomfortable. "Um..."

And before he knew it, he was being crushed in a surprisingly strong hug, the shorter man burying his face in his shoulder. "Matt!" Alfred cried in alarm.

"Sorry," his brother said from behind him. And damn if it didn't sound like _he _was crying now, too. "He's... he's emotional, and it's a rough time for him. Just let him hug you..."

Alfred gave the eyebrowed man an awkward pat on the back. "Hey. Um, there there. It's okay. Are you overcome with happiness that Matt found his real family? It's not like I'm going to steal him, if that's what you're worrying about."

"Oh God, shut up," Arthur said hoarsely.

"Hey, are you British or something? That's just about the sexiest accent ever!"

"Not _everything's_ the same," he overheard Matthew murmur to Arthur, and had no idea what the hell he was talking about. He was too focused on the sexy-voiced man crying on his shoulder to care.

"Come on, E-Arthur," his silky-haired double said. "I know, but...he's looking kind of freaked out."

"Right..." Arthur finally released him and stepped back, letting Alfred get a better look at him. Okay, so the brows were a bit unusual, but...

But...

Damn. He was _cute_.

_You know it's been too long since your last date when you're checking out the crazy emotional friend of your new brother._ Alfred shook the thought away. He could check out whomever he wanted without his conscience nagging at him, dammit.

"S-so, let's get out of the hallway..." Matt said.

"Want to watch scary movies with us?" Alfred asked as they returned to the living room, grin back now that he didn't have to look at those intense green eyes staring at him.

"Scary movies?"

Matt laughed softly. "He's been plastered all over me, screaming like a girl."

"O-of course..."

"I do _not_ scream like a girl!" Alfred noticed a few kernels of popcorn that had rolled onto the floor. "Hey, score." He stooped over to retrieve them.

"Stop eating food off the floor, you git," Arthur scolded, as if that were an everyday occurrence. Alfred looked up in surprise; their eyes locked, they stared at each other. Those beautiful, intense emerald orbs widened, as if he were just realizing what he said.

"Um. Sorry," Alfred mumbled, throwing the popcorn away.

"Augh!" Arthur turned on Matt, impressive brows lowered in...anger? Frustration? Was Alfred mistaken on the Brit's gender and she had a bun in the oven? What was with the mood swings? "I can't keep this charade up!" Alfred liked the way he pronounced 'charade'. Wait, what was he talking about?

Matt winced. "You've only been trying for five minutes."

"I _can't!_"

"What do you suggest we do, tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Alfred asked, scratching his head. They ignored him.

"And what do _you_ suggest? We keep this up for the rest of his life?" The rest of _his_ life? Not _our_? "You were right, it can't be just a coincidence, there must be some reason behind this! We can't just pretend to be his human buddies forever and leave it at that!"

"En-_Arthur!_"

"Human buddies?" Alfred said weakly. "I am so lost..."

"Well we pretty much have to tell him now, anyway..." Matthew muttered. He turned and stalked off, toward the flight of stairs.

That left Alfred alone with Arthur. _That_ wasn't awkward at all... He avoided looking at the attractive but _weird_ man, turning his attention to the décor he had already thoroughly studied earlier. Even without looking, he could feel those eyes on him.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. "It's just... this is..."

"Confusing," Alfred said.

"To you. For me it is painful like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh."

Matt came running down the stairs, preventing any further awkward conversation. He had a couple shoe boxes in his hands. "Here. I'll show you. You won't believe us, but at least we can show you..."

"Show me what?" Alfred asked, and a photo retrieved from the box was shoved at him. He accepted the small square and held it up.

His first thought was _That is the coolest jacket ever!_ Then his own eyes widened in alarm. "That's, uh... that's me?"

"No," Matt said gently, tears standing unshed in his eyes again. "He died in the war. _That's_ my brother. You aren't, I'm afraid, that would be physically impossible."

Alfred stared at the photo of himself-but-not-himself, giving the same grin and thumb's up he always posed with. But wearing a kickass jacket he had never seen in his life. "I am so even more confused."

Matt shoved the boxes into his hands, too. "Those are all my pictures of him, dating back to when cameras first came into use. We aren't human. And we'd like to figure out why a human version of my brother was born after he died."

"So what the hell _are_ you?" Alfred dropped onto the couch and dug into the boxes. Sure enough, they were all pictures of him. All featuring clothing from different eras, the quality of the photos changing to reflect the time period. His heart hammered against his ribs. This was fucking _bizarre_. Not human? Yeah right.

"Let me introduce us properly. The names I gave you before were fake."

"Eh?"

Matt smiled. "My name is Canada. This is England."

"Like..." Alfred licked his lips. "Like the countries?"

"You sure inherited America's intelligence," Arthur grumbled, looking away with arms folded.

"_America?_" Alfred bolted to his feet. "Okay, you guys are just too fucking weird. It's been nice meeting you, and I'm sure you spent a lot of time cooking this up between you, but I'm gonna get going."

"Don't go!" Matt said, grabbing his arm, sapphire eyes pleading. "Please. We aren't lying."

"You're claiming to be countries!"

"We are! I don't know how to prove it, aside from dropping a bomb nearby so you could see how it physically hurts me..."

"Cooked this up?" Arthur shook his head. "When, pray tell, do you think we found the time to take this many pictures of you and doctor them up?"

"Uh... Maybe you've been spying on me for a long time? Or maybe it's Matthew with my hairstyle?"

"I can show you official government documents that have been sent to me," Matt suggested. "You can't _read_ them, but..." He shrugged. "You can come to my birthday party on Monday, meet the others."

"Others? Like, other countries?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"That's right. They'll all be here."

He stared down at the boxes of photos. His mind had had enough, and wanted to just happily shut down for the night. "I like parties."

"I know. It'll be fun."

"Can I bring a friend?"

"Um..." Matt exchanged a glance with Arthur. "Of course not."

"Oh, Kiku won't be a bother. If you all are calling each other country names, he'll just assume they're nicknames." Rather than a bunch of madmen. "You said you wanted to meet him. And we'd had plans that day together."

Another exchanged look, and a shrug. "Uh, sure, bring Kiku, I guess. Why not..."

Alfred yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "I just want to sleep. You guys have worn out my brain with your crazy stories. I can just crash on the couch..."

"You're... staying here?" Arthur regarded him with those oh-so-dangerous eyes. Alfred couldn't stop wanting to look at them.

"I was already going to." He settled back down with the boxes.

"Scary movies," Matt said, nudging the Brit.

Alfred paused in his rummaging through photos. "I am not scared of movies!"

"It's all right." His brother who claimed to not actually be his brother smiled. "America was scared of movies, too."

That had to be one of the weirdest sentences anyone had ever said to him. "Oh." Alfred picked up another picture that grabbed his attention. "Is that a World War Two fighter plane?"

"That's right."

"So like... you're country-people, and you personally fight in wars and stuff?"

"Um. Yeah."

He looked down at the photo of... himself, sort of, posing by the plane. They thought he was a country? He'd fought in wars? Madness. Then he turned his gaze to the emotional British man. "Does that mean I kicked your ass in the Revolutionary W-OH GOD, MATT, SAVE ME!"

Matthew quickly planted himself between them, holding Arthur back. "Don't kill him, he doesn't know better!"

"Let me guess." Alfred peeked up from behind the couch, where he had landed in his mad dive to escape. "Sore subject?"

"You could say that."

"Er. Sorry."

Matt smiled back at him. "If you're tired, my room's first door on the left at the top of the stairs."

"Oh, no, no, I don't want to make you sleep on the couch!"

"I'm not. You're just like my brother. You and I both know you won't be happy tonight until you've got somebody else in bed with you."

"Um." Alfred couldn't deny that, but that didn't mean he wanted to _agree_ with it. "If you insist."

"There's pajamas and stuff in the closet. You'll find them. You've made yourself at home pretty well."

That sounded kind of like an insult. But Alfred was too worn out from the craziest fucking day ever, so he bid the madmen goodnight and retreated.

* * *

"England..." Canada tugged him into his arms. "Come here. Are you okay?"

"No..." the older nation muttered into his shirt. "It's _him_."

"Seems so. Why did he come back as a human?"

"Because life hates me." Canada had never heard such misery in his former caretaker's voice. Not since the day he had shown up on England's doorstep with—_We're not thinking about that! _"It wants me to suffer."

"Or maybe it wants to make it up to you?"

England snorted. "What, you think he's supposed to be a replacement? He isn't _actually_ him. He doesn't have any of his memories. Could _you_ honestly think of him as your brother, without everything you've shared over the centuries?"

"No..."

"And he's going to age, and... And who the hell was he inviting along to your party, anyway? We can't just tell every bloody human about us."

"Oh, some friend of his. When I told him about you, he got all excited about introducing us to his best friend."

"And what are we going to _say_ to the other nations?" England finally pulled away from Canada, expression unreadable.

"I'm half tempted to say nothing and see how long it takes for them to notice..."

"Stop that. Be serious. You _are_ your brother's brother."

Canada's lips curved slightly. "I'll tell them the truth, of course. What else would I say?"

England grunted. "I can't believe you invited him to your room."

"He'd whine until I did."

"He really is that similar, huh?"

"The only differences are a result of his Canadian upbringing." Canada couldn't help but smile proudly at that. "Well, help yourself to the guest bedroom. You must be exhausted."

"Thanks..." They both knew neither of them would be getting much sleep that night.


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow, I'm so grateful for all the wonderful reviews! Thanks everyone, you're awesomer than Prussia. :D_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred jerked awake at the sound of a doorbell filling the house. He squinted as his pupils were rudely assaulted by summer morning rays. "Mmfh..." He flopped over, and his body met with no resistance. He was alone? He'd gone to bed with someone, hadn't he? But not in the fun way. _Oh right... my brother..._ His long-lost-twin who... thought he was the country of Canada. Yeah.

Alfred located his glasses and fumbled them on. Curious about who was stopping by, he rolled out of bed and found a pair of slippers. Nothing wrong with wandering around the house in his borrowed pajamas. Still yawning, he padded out into the hallway, already hearing voices from downstairs, which grew more distinct as he neared.

"I didn't know you were dropping by today." That was Matt. He didn't sound unhappy, at least.

"I hope you don't mind, friend Canada." Oh great. A third party calling him Canada. And they didn't even know Alfred was listening! The strange voice was heavily accented, and sounded young.

"No, of course not, come in. I was planning on calling you soon, anyway! I've already got a couple visitors. England..."

"England?" The newcomer sounded startled. "He's here? Now?"

"Surprising, huh? I wish it was for just my birthday. Unfortunately, we have a bit of a... problem."

_Oh, so I'm a problem now! _Alfred marched into the hallway. "I'll have you know...!" He froze. The visitor... intimidated him. He was _tall_, and... Alfred couldn't put to words why he felt a chill up his spine. "Um, hello." He was wearing a scarf. In the summer.

"Hello, America," he said cheerfully, then blinked. "Ah. Canada? Explain?"

Cana—_Matt_, dammit_—_rubbed the back of his neck. "Russia, this is my human friend, Alfred."

Alfred gave a cheerful smile, then shrank back. The man called Russia was staring at him, and it was nothing like when the other two had gaped at him in surprise. Two endless violet whirlpools were boring into his soul and it was a _little_ disconcerting. "D-did Matt put you up to this?" A diabolical scheme to convince him they were telling the truth?

"I don't know what you mean. But you don't need to be afraid." He smiled, and for some reason, that was worse. "We had our differences in the past, but after what America did for me in the war, it's all behind us."

"Um." Alfred wasn't sure what this 'Russia' meant. Was he saying that if someone who looked like Alfred had pissed him off in the past, he would murder Alfred now? That was reassuring. "G-good. Good to know." He glanced at Matt. "Am I going to have to go through this with every damn one of your friends?"

"Hopefully not." Matt smiled. "Come on in, please."

Once they were all snugly settled in the living room, Alfred tried to get to know Russia. "Why do you wear that when it's hot out?" He reached out to tug on the visitor's scarf, and instantly knew he'd done something bad again. He yanked his hand back as violet eyes acquired a murderous gleam. "Sorry!"

"He doesn't know better." Matt patted Alfred's shoulder. "He made a Revolutionary War joke to England yesterday."

The Russian's dangerous expression was instantly replaced by one of mirth. "Oh dear. And how _is_ England taking this turn of events, hm?"

"Hard."

"Understandable." The intimidating man actually looked melancholy, smile fading and eyes downcast. "I cannot imagine meeting someone who looked like my sister. I don't know if that would be a good or a bad thing."

Matt rested a hand on Russia's shoulder. "I know. And... I'm not entirely sure if it's just 'looks like'..."

"Well if you're going to be explaining stuff." Alfred stood with a stretch. "I guess I'll go get dressed or something." He shuffled off in his polar bear slippers, returning upstairs, the droning voices fading behind him. He paused in the doorway to Matthew's room, chewing on his lip. Where was sexy British man? Had he spent the night? Alfred couldn't remember if he'd said anything along those lines. He peeked into a few rooms—making use of the bathroom when he found it—until coming across an occupied bedroom.

The Briton was sprawled face-down on the bed, blanket kicked down around his ankles. And he was wearing—Alfred's cheeks heated—only his boxer shorts. They were red, decorated with a skull-and-crossbones motif. _You shouldn't spy on him while he's sleeping. That's creepy._ But he just couldn't bring himself to look away. It was like staring at a car wreck, only with cute buns instead of mangled bodies.

Alfred gave a guilty start when he realized Arthur wasn't even asleep. His shoulders were shaking, and a muffled sound reached Alfred's ears—he was _crying!_ The other young man was still practically a stranger, but Alfred's heart ached for him. _Whatever the truth really is, I guess the part about me resembling someone you lost is accurate enough._

He wasn't even aware he had made a noise, but Arthur's head jerked up as if he'd been startled. "Canada?" He turned reddened eyes to the door and they widened. "Oh..."

"Good morning," the taller blond said with forced cheer, pretending he hadn't been spying on such a personal moment. "Um, sorry, I'll get lost."

He swiveled, and hadn't gone two steps before a quiet voice said, "Don't."

"Eh?" Alfred glanced back over his shoulder. Arthur was kneeling on the bed, staring at the floor.

"I said... don't. Don't go."

"Okay, I won't." Alfred shuffled into the room, swallowing. "Um, Arthur-"

"Must you call me that? It's just a name I came up with at the last second when Canada asked me to."

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know if I could call you 'England' without giggling."

"I guess it doesn't matter." He wiped at his eyes with an arm. "How stupid. I was an _empire_, and one of my colonies nobody could even remember is stronger than me."

"Eh?"

"Canada." The cute Brit managed a weak smile. "America was his _twin, _but he's handling this better than I. Or at least bottling it up better."

Alfred sat down beside him. "So... what are you? Their father?"

"No. I adopted them as my little brothers, and..." He turned his eyes away from the floor, peering up at Alfred. "Why do you ask? You don't even believe us."

"I guess not. Though _Russia_ seems to believe it, too. Is he in on it?"

"Russia's here, huh?" Arthur leaned back, unfolding his legs from under him. "Well, anyway. After the... after he became his own country, he wasn't my brother anymore, and we weren't on good terms, though I never stopped caring for him. Then we grew closer in the last century or so, and..." He looked away again.

On an impulse, Alfred put an arm around the smaller man, and tugged him close. Crazy he may be, but that didn't mean he deserved to suffer. "I'm sorry I remind you of him. I don't know what to say."

"It's not your fault," Arthur mumbled. "Did you mean what you said?"

"When?"

"That my accent is the sexiest ever."

"Oh." Alfred laughed. "Well, yeah!"

Nothing was said for a minute or two, then, "I should probably put something on."

"Oh yeah." The Canadian's cheeks reddened as he grew aware of the bare skin pressed up against him. He pulled his arm away. "So tomorrow do I get to go through a hundred people gawking at me?"

"We'll explain ahead of time. I'm sure they'll still stare, though." Arthur reached for a pile of clothes that were neatly stacked beside the bed. Alfred politely averted his eyes. There was a pretty cool painting on the wall, so he stood to go check it out while the other man dressed.

"Hey..."

"Hm?" Alfred turned. Arthur had his pants on, but nothing else yet. "Wh-what?" He could feel the blush creeping back up his cheeks as their eyes locked.

"So, um. You..."

"Me?" The Brit was stepping closer, and Alfred instinctively wanted to step away, but found himself frozen. A hand reached out to caress his cheek and he leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed. "Y-you shouldn't..." A bolt of electricity jolted through Alfred when Arthur brought their lips together. Just a light, feather touch. And then Alfred was shoved away so violently that he hit the floor, tailbone protesting in pain. "Hey!" He looked up, and drew back in fear. Arthur's expression was a battleground between fury, terror, and anguish.

"_Get out!_" he shouted, and Alfred was happy to oblige. He scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door. He wasn't quite fast enough, and hands slammed into him from behind, propelling him into the hallway. "Get out! _You're not him!_ GET OUT!"

He damn near fell down the staircase in his hurry to get away. Matt and... he didn't know what else to call 'Russia'... were already standing at the base of the stairs, looking up at him in concern.

"What did you do?" Matt asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Alfred paused to retrieve a slipper from one of the stairs above him.

"I'll go talk to him..."

"I wouldn't if I were you," Alfred said as his twin-looking friend strode past.

"I'll be fine."

With a shrug, Alfred walked past Russia, into the living room. Maybe one of those all-hockey-all-the-time channels would soothe his nerves.

"You upset England," the pale-haired man said, following Alfred.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Alfred flopped onto the couch and found the remote. "I upset him by existing."

"He'll get used to you."

"I hope so..."

"I apologize for getting upset at your question."

"Eh?"

He flapped the end of his scarf. "You wondered why I wear this. It was a gift from my sister Ukraine, when we were children. It was always dear to me, but even more so now that she is gone."

"Oh." What did one say to that? "I'm sorry."

Russia sat beside him on the couch. A little more close than was necessary. "America felt bad."

"What?"

"For not saving her. He tried to protect her. He felt bad, but I didn't blame him."

"Oh. Um, that's too bad."

"He felt like he had to protect everyone."

Alfred winced. He felt that way, too, sometimes. "That's not a bad thing."

"Not usually. But he tried too hard to protect everyone. His forces were spread too far and wide. In the end..."

"He couldn't protect himself," Alfred finished quietly.

Russia nodded. "He was off fighting when it happened. His plane was shot down at the same moment the first bomb was dropped on Washington..."

Alfred swallowed. "O-oh." If they had all cooked this up amongst themselves, they had been awfully elaborate.

"I was telling Canada that this might be a result of some of his states surviving."

"What?"

"You, I mean. Alaska and Hawaii survived, of course, though they are part of different countries now. But maybe that had something to do with it."

"I hadn't thought of that." Alfred scratched his head. Well, obviously, he hadn't been thinking along those lines at all.

"You remember nothing of being America?"

"I'm not America! I'm Alfred Jones, I'm a college student, I have a mom and a dad, I worked a summer job as a waiter last year and I'm thinking of doing that again here soon."

"At which restaurant?" Russia asked with a smile that creeped Alfred out.

So the day passed. Matt eventually returned. Russia eventually left to check into his hotel. Alfred was continuously left alone as Matt went back and forth between him and Arthur, looking more depressed each time he returned. And during those private chat sessions, Alfred occupied himself with TV, or exploring the house, and trying his hardest to not think about smoldering green eyes or tousled sandy blond hair or lips touching his...

It was during one of those explorations that Alfred uncovered a box from beneath his host's bed. His eyes widened when he reverently lifted out the contents. "Ohh... lovely..." He couldn't help it. He had to try the jacket on, and checked himself out in the full length mirror. "Damn. I look _good_, if I do say so myself." He inhaled the scent, and ran a finger up the worn leather. Then he turned back to the mirror and posed with a thumb's up. "That's right, bitches, I'm the United fucking States." He held the pose for another five seconds, then burst into laughter, feeling ridiculous. "Better put this back before someone walks in on me."

He didn't see Arthur again that day; the short Englishman remained confined to the guest bedroom. Matt took food in to him, though the trays he carried left the room looking just as full as when they entered. Alfred felt guilty, even knowing he hadn't technically done anything wrong. He hadn't, had he?

It was a long day.

* * *

The party was just as embarrassing as Alfred had anticipated. As promised, Matt gave a thorough explanation before bringing out the star attraction, but that apparently wasn't enough to prepare them. And so the day of staring had begun. He tried hard to either ignore them, or remind them that they were there for Canada's birthday (they had no idea who he was talking about when he referred to Matthew, so he sucked it up and addressed him as a country). Nobody listened.

"It's remarkable!" said the brunette girl with a flower in her hair. "You're just as pretty as he was."

"Pretty?"

"Oh yes! Though nobody was prettier than my Austria..." At that, she grew melancholy and left.

"Like, this is totally the weirdest thing ever," said a blond young man in pink, hand on hip. "Did you, like, get plastic surgery?"

"No no, I've always looked like this."

"Ah!" said a voice behind him, and Alfred yelped when strong arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him back against somebody's chest, and a stubbled cheek pressed against his. "Is this a dream? Have you reincarnated to come back to your big brother?"

"N-no," Alfred squeaked. Those hands that held him had made their way under his clothes with alarming speed and dexterity. "What are you _doing?_"

"I am curious, _petit _look-alike. Just how... similar are you?" Roaming hands wandered over parts of Alfred's anatomy he didn't usually allow to be touched until after at least one date. Two if he was trying to impress the other person with his charming chastity.

"Stop that! _Matt! _CANADA!"

"Aww, you called me Canada," the young man himself said, appearing at Alfred's side. "Stop that, hands off."

"You are no fun." The friendly Frenchman removed his hands and stepped back, heaving a sigh. "Ah, seeing you two together, it is quite sad..."

A memory clicked into place in Alfred's mind. "Ohhh. You said your first caretaker was mega-perverted! That was _him_! France, right?"

"That's right." Matt patted his shoulder.

Not that Alfred believed them. No sir.

The different reactions were interesting, to say the least. Not everybody was sad—Alfred wouldn't be able to handle an entire crowd of misery—but enough had cried that he thought it was a major downer for a birthday party and he should have come out later. A couple had glared, so not everyone was a fan (whether they were angry at him for looking like 'America', or hadn't liked America to begin with, was anybody's guess). Most awkward of all were the ones who insisted on touching him, as if their eyes weren't to be believed.

Relief came soon after the hot dogs were served up by the burly, aproned German man in charge of the barbecue. A familiar petite figure waved as he approached the backyard party at a run. "Sorry I'm late! Are you here, Alfred-kun? I had a little trouble finding the place."

"Over here, Kiku!" Alfred waved back, grinning. Finally, somebody who could chat with him like a normal person! "Oh man, I had the craziest weekend, and now I have a ton of people to introduce you to!" He hugged his friend with a delighted laugh, all the insanity that had occurred pushed aside in his mind.

"It couldn't have been as crazy as my weekend, Alfred-kun."

"I don't think your parents could have possibly done anything to top the weirdness of my weekend." He turned, looking for Matt to introduce them, and froze, smile fading.

Not again.

Everyone was staring. But they weren't staring at Alfred. No, this time it was Kiku they were gaping at. Some had even dropped their plates of food.

Alfred glanced at his puzzled friend, then back at the shocked crowd. Then back at Kiku. Kiku, who was Japanese...

"Oh, _dammit!_"


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Kiku drew back in alarm, wishing he were young enough to get away with hiding behind Alfred. Large crowds had never been his favorite thing in the world—he had agreed to attending a party full of strangers because his friend had asked, of course—and all those eyes on him were making him uncomfortable. "What's going on?"

Alfred shrugged. "I'm guessing you're the reincarnation of the country of Japan."

"What?" He didn't always understand Alfred's sense of humor.

A man with slicked back blond hair and an apron over his Hawaiian-print clothes finally broke the silence, striding closer, eyes narrowed. "Japan...?"

"I'm Japanese, yes," Kiku said, dark eyes flitting around, seeking an escape. He desperately introduced himself to fill up the silence. "My parents fled during the war. My name is Kiku Honda. Alfred said is was okay if I came..."

The German-sounding man turned on Alfred, whose smile was looking a bit strained. "What? It's true! He's my best friend. I didn't know he was Japan..."

"Who _else_ is there?" an Italian man demanded. "Do you know a Spanish man?" His question opened the floodgates, and Kiku and his friend were abruptly surrounded by the other party-goers, shouting over each other to make their questions heard. Kiku could only vaguely make out the specific demands, but they all sounded the same. Are you really so-and-so? Do you know so-and-so?

"What's going on?" he hissed in Alfred's ear.

"More of my crazy weekend."

"I want to leave."

"They won't hurt you."

But then somebody flung himself at Kiku—someone who looked similar to the other Italian man who had spoken. "Japaaan!" he cried. "It's you, it's really you!"

Kiku awkwardly patted the auburn-haired young man on the shoulder, giving Alfred a desperate look.

"This is _Kiku_," Alfred said. "He's... oh, never mind. Kiku, this is, uh. Italy, I believe."

"Italy?" Kiku said weakly as his ribs were crushed. "Like the country?"

"Like the country." Alfred managed to pry... Italy... off of Kiku. And then they were assaulted by a group of Asian boys. The ponytailed one was the next person to cling to Kiku. Alfred sighed. "Aw, c'mon, guys..."

"I'm sorry for everything bad I've ever said about you," the ponytailed boy sobbed. "I really really am. I know you hate me-aru, but-"

"I don't hate you," Kiku interrupted, alarmed. What in the world was he talking about? "I don't even know you."

"You don't hate me-aru?"

"No! And why do you-"

"I missed you." He buried his face in Kiku's chest. "We may not have gotten along, but I missed you so much."

Kiku had no idea why, but he was starting to feel a little guilty. "I apologize, but who are you?"

"I'm your big brother China!"

"My brother? You think you're..." Kiku gaped over at Alfred, who just shrugged helplessly. He'd been right—this was _weird_. But Kiku just had to humor this poor weeping boy. "Well, all right, nii-chan." He had been entirely unprepared for the reaction _that_ caused. China cried harder and squeezed the life out of Kiku. "I'm sorry!"

"D-don't be..." China finally stepped back, wiping at his eyes. "I'm just glad you're here. Is Korea here, too? Do you know any Koreans?"

"I guess I should have listened to you," another voice said weakly. It sounded kind of like Al's, only softer. "You wanted to show me a picture of him days ago. That would have saved everyone this awkwardness."

Alfred gave a sheepish smile. "I guess so. Come here, Kiku. If everyone will leave us alone for five minutes, I'll try and explain."

* * *

Canada watched Alfred drag a very confused Kiku off to a quiet corner of the yard, shaking his head. His mind was a colorful blur of confusion as it attempted to process everything. Unable to wait more than a minute to know for sure, he shoved past other stunned nations and approached the human friends.

"So then he _faints_ on me, and of course I'm just thinking, 'Aww, he's emotional that he's found a brother!' And-" Alfred looked up. "Speak of the devil. Hi, Mattie." He nudged Kiku. "He says his name's Matthew, but he also says he made that up. I'll explain that in a sec. What's up, bro?"

Kiku blinked up at him. "He... he does look like..."

Canada coughed. "Um... sorry to interrupt, but _do_ you know anyone else like you? Refugees from a destroyed country, born right after the war?"

"Oh, sure." Alfred grinned. "There's my friend Antonio, his parents came over from Spain. There's that Russiany-sounding girl, Katyusha, with the short hair and huge jugs, I think he said she has a similar story. There's Yong Soo from Korea (you should tell China, I think he was asking about that), Roderich from Austria, Vash from Switzerland and his cute step-sister what's-her-face," (Canada winced at the reminder of the innocent neutral countries...) "and... those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head..."

Canada licked dry lips, heart hammering against his ribcage. "Do you have any pictures?"

"Yeah, hold on." Alfred pulled his phone out, fiddled with it, and handed it over. "That's my friend Antonio!"

Spain. _Oh god... _Canada shoved the cell phone back and fled into the house, Alfred's surprised voice floating after him though he didn't catch what was said. He just had to get away. And for some reason, the only person he wanted to talk to was England. He didn't even know why, England wasn't in the best frame of mind just then. But before he knew it, Canada was barging into the guest bedroom. He looked around, brows raising. No England. He turned and damn near ran into the other nation as he entered the room, himself.

"Oh!" A smile tugged at Canada's lips. "You showered."

"Yeah, I do that." England rubbed the towel over his damp locks. Another towel was the only thing covering him. "Don't act so surprised. How's the party?"

"Kind of depressing, with so many of them crying over Alfred. And kind of funny, with France groping him."

"Ugh, _France_. What a disgusting wanker."

"So, uh..." Canada cleared his throat. "I'd say that it's official. He's America. Definitely."

England's expression cooled further. "Haven't we been over that a thousand times already? I know, he's too much like him, et cetera. I don't care."

"Yes you do, and there's more of them."

"More of what?"

"His friend Kiku finally showed up. He's Japan."

"He... he's..." His former caretaker narrowed his eyes. "Japan?"

"I didn't hang around him long enough to see if his personality is identical, but he looks and sounds like him, yes."

"Oh god..."

"And he showed me a picture of his friend Antonio, who is Spain."

"_Spain?_"

"And described several others. Austria, Ukraine..." He fell silent, and England said nothing. He could see the whirl of emotions in his green eyes. "So you don't need to feel guilty about being attracted to him," he finished lamely.

"I'm not attracted to him." And the raw anger he would have displayed just yesterday at the suggestion was gone, replaced with weariness. "Why is this happening?" he asked for the hundredth time.

Canada gave the same response as usual. "I don't know. Now come on, you promised you'd come to my party."

"Can I get dressed first? Especially with France there?"

"I suppose."

* * *

Alfred wanted his phone back, but the other Italian guy had stolen it. He had asked the thief if Antonio was somebody he knew, but the response had been quite rude.

Kiku, believing the situation as much as Alfred had at first (not that he believed it now, no way!), clung to him and tried to avoid everyone's shocked looks and desperate questions. Alfred was about ready to tell him to make a break for it and leave when he was confronted by violet vortexes of doom.

"You have seen my sister?" Russia asked, pleasant voice not fooling anyone.

"Your sister?" Alfred looked up at the tall, scary man, and swallowed. "I don't know?"

"Ukraine. Is there a Ukrainian girl at your school?"

"I don't know what Ukrainian is!"

"You would know her if you saw her. She has memorable assets."

"Y-you mean Katyusha? Short hair, big... uh... _ack_!" Alfred was picked up by his shirt collar, and the breath was crushed out of him as he was wrapped in an embrace of death. It took him a moment to realize he was actually being hugged, rather than murdered. "R-Russia...? I can't..."

"Ukraine is back, too?" the Russian asked, hugging tighter and Alfred swore he heard the sound of his ribs creaking. "You can call her and bring her here? Do that now." He set the smaller man down, watching him with a very disturbing puppy-dog look. Cujo had been a puppy once.

"Ah. Right," Alfred wheezed. "One of the Italy guys stole my phone to stare at the picture of Antonio."

"Did he? I shall find him and tell him to return it." Russia disappeared into the crowd, and Alfred leaned against Kiku.

"I thought he was gonna kill me!"

"So did I," Kiku said, dark eyes wide.

"You can leave if you want."

"I won't abandon you."

"You don't... oh."

"What is it?"

"N-nothing." Alfred stared at the figure that strode out of the back door, dressed in a nice suit that looked out of place among the shorts and t-shirts, hair damp. Al's fingers twitched at the desire to run through those messy locks. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Who is that?"

"Huh?" Alfred blinked. "Oh. Uh, England."

"You're drooling."

"I am not!"

"Not literally, but I've known you a long time, Alfred-kun."

"Shut up."

"Do you like England?" said a quiet voice behind them, neatly giving them heart attacks.

Alfred yelped and whirled around. "Don't sneak up on me!"

"Sorry." Canada smiled. And Alfred was alarmed anew to realize he was starting to _think_ of him as Canada, dammit. "It's an unwanted talent."

"And n-_no_. Of course I don't _like_ him. I barely know him, and he's kind of crazy, and he's in serious need of some tweezing."

"You like him," Kiku said. And to Alfred's horror, his friend waved the Brit over. Thankfully, England avoided eye contact, and seemed much more interested in meeting Kiku.

"Your phone~" His cell phone was dangled in front of Al's face by its hamburger phone strap. "Romano sends a message. It was, and I quote, 'You better also fucking call Spain over'."

"Er. Thanks, Russia." Alfred accepted the phone, lips pursed. "I don't know if I'll be able to get a hold of anyone. It _is_ summer now. They might all be on the other end of the country by now, visiting family."

A cheerful, smiling face came nose-to-nose with Alfred. "You're going to call Ukraine and have her come as soon as possible."

"Right!" Sweat dripped into one of his eyes and stung. "You bet!"

"I knew I could count on you."

Russia walked away, and Alfred removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. "Good grief. Uh, if you guys will excuse me? I have some calls to make that I think my life depends on."

* * *

"Oh, no, I assure you," England said, waving a hand toward the party-goers, "none of them are bright enough for this to be an elaborate prank."

"If you say so, England-san," Kiku said, and England knew it was simply from a lack of another name to call him. It was pleasant, he was surprised to find out. Talking with Kiku was strangely soothing. He wasn't sure why this ghost of his old friend did not summon forth the same anguish Alfred did, but it was a relief.

"Well, you don't have to believe us for now, I guess. Alfred doesn't, either." He glanced over to where the human in question was desperately making calls. His lips curled into a smile before he even realized what he was doing. _I guess I should apologize for yelling at him yesterday._ When he turned back to Kiku, the Asian was giving him a knowing look, and England felt his cheeks annoyingly heat. "Stop that. He reminds me of someone is all."

"Of course. I'm sorry." Kiku tilted his head. "I do too, don't I?"

"Yes. Japan was my good friend."

"Ve, England, don't hog him!" Italy pounced on Kiku again, nuzzling their cheeks together. "I've missed you soooo much."

"Don't _you_ hog him," Greece said.

Others chimed in, wanting to talk to Kiku, so England backed away. Kiku threw him a pleading look, but he just shrugged in response. It would be impossible to stop everybody from their fascination. Already Lithuania and the Nordics and some others were trying to interrupt Alfred's call to talk with him.

"_Mon dieu_. Our Canada sure knows how to throw a party."

England elbowed France, just because. "And keep your grubby mitts off of Alfred. If I find out you've touched him again—or Kiku—there will be trouble."

"It was just a misunderstanding. I feel the same about our America coming back to us as you."

"I _highly_ doubt that," England muttered. "To both statements."

"Maybe not in the same way, but I'm not joking." France glanced at England with a serious expression. "I want him back, too. I want all of them back."

"I know." England sighed. France _had_ helped him a great deal after the war, strangely enough. Second, perhaps, only to Canada. He had smacked England when he needed it, held him when he needed it, and didn't even cop a feel. And in turn, England had comforted France, for none of them had escaped unscathed, in body or mind.

They had _all_ needed some therapy after the war.

"I was in charge of the cake this year," France said after a long silence.

"Please tell me it's cake-shaped."

"I got a sheet cake! Nobody trusts me."

"For good reason. I may not have been there, but I heard about the _last_ cake you brought for _months_."

France grinned. "I'm sure Canada's glad you're here, even if you had an ulterior motive. He always moped about your absence."

"Yeah right. He's probably just glad he _gets_ a party now." Being noticed and paid attention to more often _was_ one of the side effects of... well... not having anyone to be mistaken for anymore. Of course, now everyone was ignoring Canada in favor of Alfred and Kiku. History repeated itself.

"I'll go get the cake." France gave a little wave sauntered off to retrieve it.

"Did I hear something about cake?" Canada threw England a worried look as he approached. "Don't tell me he bought my cake this year."

"He promised he behaved."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine," England insisted. "How are _you_ doing? You're the one being ignored on your birthday."

"Yeah, _that's_ something I'm not used to at all." The young nation smiled. "I don't mind." He glanced over at Kiku, being fought over by Italy, Greece, and China. And at Alfred, being squeezed between Finland and Denmark. "You know? Maybe this is just what happens."

"What?"

"We've never _had_ a mass extinction of countries before. Maybe when that happens, the cosmos say 'Oops, sorry about that. Here, here's another life for you.' Or something."

"We'll probably never know," England sighed. "Though you'd think the cosmos could have given them their _memories_ at the very least."

Canada nodded absently, turning toward France who had emerged with a surprisingly normal, vast Canadian flag cake. "Who knows?" He gave a shy wave as everyone's attention was finally drawn back to the birthday boy, and they launched into a very off-key and off-harmony rendition of his national anthem.


	6. Chapter 6

_I seem to have fallen into a Monday/Friday update schedule with this story. Interesting! Well, I make no promises, but it seems to work... lol_

_For some reason, I'm having a harder time getting used to writing 'Kiku' than 'Alfred' or any of the others. I've had to go back and correct random instances of 'Japan' several times so far this story. Bah.  
_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

_

* * *

_Alfred jerked awake, bolting upright on the couch, scream still echoing in his mind. He rubbed his face, waiting for his racing heart to settle down. Had he done that... out loud? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was a good thing he had insisted on sleeping in the living room that night.

"What the hell was that?" a voice hissed, answering his question.

"Sorry. Bad dream. Go back to bed." He held his breath, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but instead they seemed to be moving closer. The couch shifted as the other person settled down by Alfred's feet.

"Want to talk about it?" the British accented voice said.

Alfred peered at him, able to only vaguely make his features out in the dark. "I don't know." He heard a faint clink, the familiar sound of his glasses being picked up. What was he doing with those?

"Are you sure?"

"Well, it was weird. And you were in it..."

"I was? Tell me."

He heaved a sigh. "Okay. We were walking in a city, some really big city I didn't recognize. We were talking and happy, I don't remember what we were talking about. Then we heard a siren, and then there was a distant explosion." He could feel England stiffen. He wished he could make out more of his face. "And suddenly, I was in a lot of pain. It was bizarre. I don't think I've ever felt pain in a dream before. But it _hurt_, and I was screaming, and you were screaming, and I collapsed and coughed up blood, and that's when I woke up." Alfred settled back against his pillow, feeling a bit silly for having such a weird dream. But he _did_ feel a bit better for having spoken it out loud to someone else. Though why wasn't England saying anything? "Did you hear me?"

"I heard." It looked like he was toying with Alfred's glasses. "I never told anyone about that."

"About what?"

"You just described an attack on New York during the war. I told everyone _basically_ what happened, but not as specific as that."

Alfred's mouth went dry. "That really happened?"

"It did. And before the attack, we were talking about where to eat, and you—he, I mean, wanted pizza for a change, and teased me about my food. As usual."

"That's right! I remember now." Alfred rubbed his eyes again. "Great. Oh, just great." He dropped back against the pillows.

"Do you believe us now?"

"I guess so," Alfred moaned. The dream alone was bad enough, but for England to fill in some of the details... "What the hell. I was a _country_? I have no idea what to do with that information. How could I have been a country?"

"You don't-"

"And now what? Am I going to keep _dreaming_ about him until his memories are restored and he gets my body and I'm dead?"

"I don't think that could happen. It's not like you're going to lose _your_ memories."

Alfred wasn't really listening. "I just want to finish school and marry someone and someday retire and move to—what?"

"Nothing." England patted his leg. "No one's saying you can't do any of that. This has never _happened _before. I'm just as lost as you are. I mean, nations have been lost before, but never like that..."

Alfred shuffled himself into a sitting position and leaned against England. The other man—nation?—jerked in surprise, then put an arm around him.

"Who were you planning on marrying?" England asked softly.

"I didn't have anyone in mind, I meant _years_ in the future." Alfred bit his lip. "Were you and he... uh..."

"Yes." Such loss in such a little word.

"Sorry." His mouth spoke before his brain had a chance to catch up. "Maybe that's why I've been feeling an insane attract... er..." His brain finally caught up. _Don't say that to him, geez!_

Alfred gave a mental sigh of relief when England didn't get upset. "What, you don't think you'd have been attracted to me otherwise?"

Oops. "That's not what I meant." He felt his face increase in temperature to furnace proportions. "I mean... I don't know what I'm saying or doing! I was a _country_."

"It's not that bad."

"I don't _want_ to dream about whatever weird shit he's been through. What if..." What if he dreamed about when he _died_? That would be horrible! Then his brain cheerfully supplied him with all the fun world history he had learned in school. He cringed.

"We're here for you. It makes you feel better to talk about it, doesn't it? We've all been through weird shit."

That was true. Just talking to England had made him feel better about the dream. On impulse, Alfred turned and wrapped both arms around England, feeling him stiffen again. "Thanks."

"Y-you're welcome." England settled more comfortably into the embrace. "_Is_ it a memory now? Do you remember what happened in your dream as if it really happened?"

"Not really. It's still a dream that I remember."

"Oh..." Silence reigned for several more minutes, and Alfred released him.

"I think I'll go back to Ma-Canada's room if I want to get any more sleep."

"All right."

Alfred had been half expecting to be invited (in a platonic way, of course) to England's bed. "Can I have my glasses?"

"Where did you get those?" England asked as he handed them over.

What an odd question. "The optometrist's."

"Oh."

They quietly made their way up the stairs together. "Thanks for talking to me," Alfred whispered before they parted ways.

"You're welcome." England looked in the direction of his guest room, but made no move toward it. "I'm sorry for getting so angry at you the other day."

"It's okay."

"I was angry with myself, really. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's really okay."

"All right." Another hesitation. "Good night."

"Night." Alfred smiled—much good as that did in the dark—and shuffled back into Canada's room.

He could make out the outline of a furry shape curled up in the middle of Alfred's side of the bed. With a sigh, he reached out to poke it, but changed his mind and drew his hand back. Poking a sleeping bear did not seem like a good idea. He set his glasses down on the nightstand, then did his best to curl up in what space was available. The polar bear shifted against him, and it was actually rather comforting. Despite the less than comfortable position, he fell asleep shortly, hoping for no more dreams.

But dream he did, of a rain-drenched battlefield, and a familiar blond figure in a red coat.

* * *

England lay back on his (well, Canada's) bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing sleep would return. He had barely gotten any the last couple nights, surely he must be tired. His mind, though, refused to give him a moment's rest, going 'round and 'round like a _really bloody fast_ carousel.

He just couldn't figure out what to even think about Alfred. So yes, they had confirmed through a thousand different facts that he was indeed, somehow, America. He looked and sounded like him, he acted like him, the _other_ nations were also out there as humans, and now he was _dreaming_ about being him. No doubt about it. Yet his mind just couldn't decide on whether to think of him that way or not.

No matter how many memories came to him in his dreams, even if he regained every bit of memory... would it _really_ be the same him? America was still dead. Nothing would change that. Right? His body was still in the ground, his brilliant spirit extinguished...

Right?

Or _was_ this human the same exact person in every way? Could they pick up where they left off? Would they ever be able to genuinely reflect on the past they shared? Should England not feel guilty for longing to run his fingers through that wheat field hair, or kiss those sweet lips that looked just the same...

And it _was_ guilt he felt at such thoughts. That was a step forward. A dull ache of guilt, rather than the harsh stab of anger he'd felt at himself the other day.

Ah, if only his mind could as easily accept the human America as it had human Japan.

* * *

Kiku set his orange juice down, staring out the restaurant's window, at the passersby starting their day. Yesterday's party felt like a dream. _Let's not think about dreams..._

"Good morning," a voice chirped, startling Kiku.

"Ah, good morning, Antonio," he said as his friend dropped into the booth opposite him. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. This place makes good pancakes." He picked up his menu, eyes flickering over the assorted breakfast items.

"The reason Alfred asked-"

"Isn't it his birthday in a couple days?" Antonio wondered.

"Yes it is."

"Damn. I still need to get him something."

Kiku smiled. "Just give him something food related, he'll be happy."

"That's not very creative. I guess I have to hit the stores once we've eaten."

"If you want. But anyway, the reason-"

"I had the coolest dream last night."

"Ah. Did you?" Kiku's smile quickly fell. _He'd_ had a rather unpleasant dream, involving fighting his best friend. He chalked it up to the bizarre things they'd said at the party.

"I was in charge of a vast fleet of ships! It was great! I wish it hadn't been interrupted."

"That sounds like fun." What had Kiku been talking about again? Oh, right. "So anyway, we're trying to get together everyone like... like us. Whose parents fled dying lands during the war."

"Ah!" Antonio grinned. "That's an interesting idea. Though what would this club of ours do?"

"I don't know. It just sounds interesting." How had he let himself get roped into this? Rounding up his friends—and some he barely knew—because some odd strangers thought they were... It was too weird. Yet Alfred seemed to be starting to believe...

He wished he could explain a random twin of his friend turning up. Or the strange dream he had had. Or the strange dream _Antonio_ had had, which sounded rather Spanish.

Coincidences all, of course. People couldn't be countries. That was nonsense.

"Well let me know when the first meeting is. I'll bring Katyusha. She's Ukrainian!"

Ah yes. Just like the scary, scary man had said. How had he known about her? "Great. Alfred and I are trying to reach the others."

"What are you getting him?"

"Pardon me?"

"For Al's birthday."

"Oh." Kiku ran a finger around the rim of his juice glass. Apparently that's what Antonio really wanted to discuss. "A video game."

"Damn! That's what I was thinking of."

"You could always get him a different one."

"But that's also not very creative." Antonio dropped his chin into his hand. "Maybe I'll get him another date."

"With you?"

"Not with _me_. I'd tried setting him up with someone the other day, but it didn't work out."

"Ah yes. Well, I think he's met someone..."

"Has he now?" Antonio perked up. "Do tell."

Kiku chuckled. "Just someone I met at this party he dragged me to yesterday. A nice British guy. You should have seen the way Alfred was staring at him."

"British, eh? Huh."

"I'm sure you'll meet him soon."

"Are they together?"

Kiku tapped his chin, thinking back. "I don't think so, actually. The Englishman talked to me, and didn't say a word to Alfred, as I recall. Though _he_ kept looking at Al and blushing, too..."

"That can be our present! We'll get them together!"

"I don't think that's a good idea. Let's let them go at their own pace."

"Of course, Kiku."

Why didn't he believe Antonio?


	7. Chapter 7

_This is a much lighter, interlude-ish chapter. If you enjoy the angst, you'll just have to wait. ;) What can I say, I was in the mood for some good ol' humor.  
_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

_

* * *

_"Are you sure you contacted everyone?" Canada perused the list of former nations he had written up.

"I'm sure," Alfred said. "All the ones I know of, anyway."

"You're positive?"

"Yes! Oh, wait..."

Canada and England both sat up straighter. "What?"

"Um... I might know another one." He gave a sheepish smile.

"Yes?"

"Well, there was this girl I went out with in high school. She doesn't go to my college, though, I lost track of her after graduation. Her folks were from... uh... India, I think!" Alfred nodded, smiling at the memory. "Lakshmi. That's right. She was hot."

"India!" Canada breathed. "Can you call her?"

"I'd have to find her number."

"Do you know where it is?"

"No... yes! In my yearbook."

"And...?"

"It's at my house! My parents' house, that is." Alfred scratched his head. "Well, that isn't too far, and they won't be home for hours."

"Ah. England? Do you want to take him? I'd better not go, just in case..."

* * *

As they strolled up the walk, Alfred glanced over his shoulder at the tall nation who was eagerly stopping to examine the flowers. "Why did he come with us again?"

England glanced back as well. "Because he's Russia. I don't know." He had shown up just as they were about to leave, and had invited himself along.

"Keep an eye on him, will you? I just need to run up to my old room and find it in my boxes of crap."

"Will that take long?"

"Maybe." Alfred keyed the door open and hurried inside. He quickly found himself in the crushing embrace of a plump, middle-aged blonde.

"Oh, Alfie, sweetheart!" (he heard snickers from behind) "Why didn't you call? Oh, that's okay, you've been busy!"

"Hey, Mom, you're home... Uh, good!"

* * *

"Would anyone like another helping of meatloaf?"

"Oh yes, please, Mrs. Jones." Russia held his empty plate up.

"You're such a nice boy, Ivan." Alfred's mother took his plate, giving the Russian a noisy kiss on the cheek as she passed by. "Are you single?"

"Mom!" Alfred wanted to hide his head. His mother had been playing matchmaker since he was fifteen, trying to set him up with every girl she could find. He knew that not all mothers were cool with finding out their son played for both teams, but in her case, she had just doubled her efforts.

"What? I just want to see my boy married off."

"I'm only nineteen!" For a couple more days, anyway.

She ignored her son's protests, as usual, returning Russia's plate and taking her seat. "Boy or girl, I don't care, I just want to see you settled down. Natural or adopted, grandkids are grandkids!"

"Mom! I'm nineteen, for god's sake."

Russia had been smiling his small smile the whole time. "I apologize, Mrs. Jones. The idea intrigues me, but Alfie here only has eyes for Arthur, I think."

There were about a hundred aspects of that sentence Alfred would have to discuss with Russia later, but for the time being, he blushed and tried to avoid looking at England.

"Really? Did you hear that, dear?" She nudged her husband, who had been busy stuffing his face the whole time. "How lovely! A nice proper Englishman will be such a good influence on Alfie!"

England gave a soft snort.

Alfred's father finally glanced up, eyeing the pair of blushing blonds. "You boys are using condoms, right?"

Alfred buried his face in his hands.

"Of course they are, dear, don't embarrass them."

"I am looking forward to hearing stories of his childhood," Russia said.

"Why?" Alfred hissed.

"He was a good boy," his mother said. "Never had many friends, though, until things started to pick up in high school."

That seemed to amuse Russia. "He was a... what do you say... nerd?"

"No, no. He was just very bossy and nosy, and the other kids didn't like it."

"You don't say. How surprising."

"He's always liked video games, though. Maybe he _was_ a nerd!"

"Save me." Alfred turned pleading eyes to England.

"Don't look at me." England gave him a thoughtful look. "She's right though. You _can_ have natural kids, can't you. That's intriguing. I don't know why I hadn't thought about that."

"Can we talk about that later?" He returned his attention to the other conversation, which seemed to have progressed quite rapidly.

"-and when we _finally_ convinced him to dress as something else after four Halloweens in a row as Superman, he went and got a Batman costume!"

"Mom!"

Her smile was much too pleasant for somebody who was ruining her son's life. "Well! Who wants apple pie?"

* * *

"This is mortifying," Alfred groaned as he finally walked into his old bedroom. Thankfully, it hadn't been changed since his last visit.

"I thought it was educational." Russia examined the posters of various movies and bands Alfred had enjoyed throughout his teens.

"I thought you were going to stay downstairs!" With his talkative, matchmaking parents... "Actually, yeah, you stay with me."

"Your parents resemble you," Russia said thoughtfully. "And they were alive when America was. That's interesting."

"I try not to think about things like that," England muttered. He picked up a framed picture of Alfred as a child. "Oh..."

"What's up?" Alfred braved the ruins of his closet to see if he could find any of his boxes of school stuff.

"Nothing." He set the picture down. "I don't have any picture of America when he was little."

"No?"

"Obviously not, we didn't have _cameras_ back then."

"Oh, right." Alfred chuckled. "No, uh, drawings then?"

"Not anymore."

"Isn't this sweet?" Russia held up a very worn old rabbit toy. "Can I have it?"

Alfred sighed, turning back to the closet. "Only if I can have your scarf."

"I will have to consider the offer, but I doubt I can do that. Oh, nice hockey stick."

"Must you rummage through my things?" Alfred located the box he wanted and pulled it out. "Here we go. It should be in here." (He didn't notice, while he was busy, photos of his younger self disappearing, ending up tucked in England's clothes.)

"I want to see pictures of you in your superhero costumes," Russia said. "Weren't you ever a cowboy?"

"Yes," Alfred mumbled. It was weird, people he'd only recently met knowing all about him. "And you don't get to see those." He dug through the stacks of old schoolwork, report cards, random pictures... "Here's yearbooks!" He held them up in triumph, then selected the one from his last year. Hopefully at least somebody in her family had the same contact info. After locating the right page, he handed it to England. "Is that her?"

"That's her..." England shook his head. "You dated India?"

"Don't sound so surprised! Now let's get the hell out of here."

"But I want to hear more embarrassing stories," Russia said.

"No. And if you call me 'Alfie' again, we'll be having a nice personal little _hot_ war."

"That sounds kinky, Alfie."

"Stop teasing him," England said. He glanced at Alfred. "Would you believe he's actually saner than he used to be?"

"He was worse?" Alfred couldn't help but laugh. Russia didn't seem to care, though, peering under the bed.

"We thought for sure losing Ukraine would break his brain even more, but after the war he actually seemed more mellow. He even spends more time with his other sister, now, and he used to avoid her whenever possible."

"Belarus is a good girl. Now." Russia held up a maple leaf hoodie. "You dress like Canada."

"Did you have any other weird dreams?" England wondered suddenly.

"Er..." Alfred wasn't sure if he wanted to discuss that with anyone else present. Oh well, Russia was one of them. "Yeah."

"What of?"

Then he realized he didn't want to discuss that with _England_. "Nothing!"

"You just said you did!"

"I was wrong."

England rubbed his face. "Tell me, or I'm inviting us to stay the night here with your folks."

Alfred whined. "But the last time I mentioned it you tried to kill me!"

"Mentioned _what_?" England's eyes widened. "Oh. That."

"I'm lost," Russia said.

Alfred didn't say anything further. Now that he kinda sorta _believed_ them, he could understand why that would be a painful memory for England. "Can we go now?" If they stayed too much longer, his mom would start drawing up a dowry for England or something.

"What dreams?" Russia pressed.

"Oh, he's dreaming about things that happened to America," England said.

"What? Isn't that a big deal?"

"I'd say so, yes."

"What things?"

"Like that early attack on New York during the war."

Russia actually looked kind of disappointed. "Not the attack on London? Then I'd be in it!"

"He doesn't need to know about that," England said stiffly.

"He stole my pipe..."

"I know! I probably still have a lump from that."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Alfred demanded. "What happened when London was attacked?"

England rubbed his head, wincing at whatever memories were being summoned. "A bunch of us were there at the time. America was the first one to realize what was happening, so he took Russia's water pipe-"

"Why did he have a _pipe?_"

"-and whacked me on the head with it."

Alfred blinked, taken aback. "That's... not very nice."

"He wanted to spare me the pain of the attack by knocking me unconscious first."

Alfred stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. He couldn't help it! The mental image was too funny.

"Stop that!" England snapped. "He could have seriously injured me!"

"It was just a tap," Russia said.

"I'm sorry," Alfred gasped. "The mental image of you getting walloped with a pipe for your own good..." His laughter trailed off. "Oh. Now that I say it out loud, it doesn't sound very funny, does it?"

"No shit!" England rubbed his head again, then scowled when another chuckle escaped Alfred. "Let's just go, _Alfie_."

"It's not fair..." Alfred sighed, following them downstairs. "Your names don't have funny nicknames."

His mother insisted on giving all three of them hugs before allowing them to leave. "You take good care of my boy," she told England as she released him.

"Absolutely," England said pleasantly. "It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Jones. You've raised a fine col... er, son."

"Stop by again soon!"

Alfred sagged in relief when they safely exited the house. "We survived."

"You should be nicer to your mother," Russia said with a small frown.

"Quiet, you. And why were you digging through my room?"

"Looking..."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Alfred asked with just a touch of sarcasm.

"Actually, I did!"

"_What _did—never mind. I don't want to know."

* * *

"Did you do all right, alone with him?" Canada wondered, flipping through the yearbook pages. "I felt bad for sticking you two together, but..."

"Fine." England gave him a small smile. "Russia went with us for some reason. And Alfred's parents were there. I didn't have a moment of sanity to really feel upset or anything. It felt like old times..."

"Russia?"

"Don't ask."

"Alfred's parents?"

"Really don't ask." England pursed his lips. "Did you know Alfred can have kids?"

Canada glanced over at him, head cocked and eyebrow raised. "Of course I did. He's human."

England opened his mouth to come up with a snappy retort, but settled for glaring.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

The setup that night was the same: Canada in his room, England in the guest room, and Alfred on the couch. For the time being. A scary dream could very well change that.

"It's not going to be like this forever, you know," Canada said, draping a lightweight blanket over his human brother. He looked so sweet, all tired and cozy, minus his glasses. Without the scars and battle-weary eyes of a nation, he almost looked like a colony again._ Wait, 'again'?_

Alfred yawned. "What do you mean?"

"We can't all stay here. England and I have things we need to do. Don't you have a home?"

"You're kicking me out?" And damn if he didn't give Canada the _exact same_ kicked puppy look that America used to.

"I have to go home."

"You are home!"

"This isn't my only house. Remember?" Canada gave him a gentle smile. "I'll stay for your birthday, then I _really_ need to get back to Ottawa."

"That's too far..."

"But I wanted to ask. Do you think you could get everyone together in a couple weeks?"

"I'm trying."

"Because we've got a meeting in London soon, so... that'd be a good time to get everybody together and start looking into this."

Alfred's jaw dropped. "Did you forget that we're all _college students? _We can't go to London!"

"Don't worry about the cost."

Alfred's jaw dropped further, on the brink of unhinging. "Seriously?"

"Coach only, don't get too excited."

"You're paying for us to go to London? You're the best brother ever!"

"I know." Canada couldn't stop himself from ruffling Alfred's hair in good old brotherly fashion.

* * *

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

Kiku started in surprise, turning around, shielding his eyes from the harsh sun with a hand. "Antonio, hello. I wasn't expecting you today."

Antonio grinned, slapping Kiku on the back. "I know. Who are you waiting for, then?"

"A friend."

"Who?"

Kiku let out a steady breath. "Nobody you know."

"I might. What's their name?"

"Uh." Kiku realized that he should have worked that out before somebody asked. He desperately dug through his brain for a Chinese sounding name. "Yao?"

Antonio blinked. "Are you asking me?"

"No. His name's Yao." Kiku turned back to the bustling park, scanning the crowd for a ponytailed Chinese boy. Why wouldn't they tell him their real names? They were dedicated to their art, at least.

"Aren't you going to say hi?" Antonio finally asked.

"I said hi."

"Not to me. I brought Katyusha!"

Kiku turned back to Antonio, and realized there was indeed someone standing behind his Spanish friend. She stepped closer with a friendly smile.

"Ahh!"

"What!?" Antonio said, alarmed.

"Er..." For the pleasant July day, Antonio's friend had opted for shorts and a tank top. Kiku had no idea where to put his eyes. "Um, I was surprised to see her! Hello!"

"Hi." Katyusha bounced in excitement. Kiku thought he was going to pass out. "We're going shopping! I guess you can't come if you're waiting for someone..."

"R-right. No. I have to wait here." Kiku licked dry lips. "Um. Shopping?"

"Antonio and I are getting presents for Alfred! I don't know him that well, but he seems nice."

"Oh." Kiku sagged back in relief. "You've decided to buy him something substantial?" Thank goodness.

"Well, yes." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck. "But that doesn't mean I won't try shoving the reluctant lovebirds together."

Of course. "Oh good."

"And I'm doing my part to collect our club!"

"Really?" And Kiku almost toppled over when somebody pounced on him from behind, wrapping arms around his neck.

Antonio winced. "Don't kill him, Yong Soo..."

"It's fine!" The other Asian slid off Kiku with a beaming grin. "They invited me to a party tomorrow!"

"Do you even know Alfred?" Kiku wondered, smiling in spite of himself. Yong Soo could be annoying at times, but...

"I've heard of him."

"Shall we go?" Katyusha said, fanning herself. "I'm going to burn soon, I bet."

"Sure." Antonio waved. "See ya, Kiku."

The trio left Kiku behind to wait for his friend. None of them noticed the figure that watched them, hidden behind a tree.

* * *

China had no idea what England was so unhappy about. It didn't matter how, their lost friends and family members were back! And _this_ Japan liked him! And called him big brother, even if he didn't believe it! After all the horrible things he and Japan had gone through, after wondering if they could ever forgive each other, then losing Japan as well as the chance to ever find out... he was presented with a new chance, a blank slate. But he wasn't about to lie to him, so he answered Kiku's questions with honesty.

"I wouldn't have done something like that," Kiku said behind him, holding China's shirt up, sounding disgusted. Soft fingers reached out to gently touch the old scar. "Were you in an accident?"

"No. I'm not lying-aru," China said. "None of us are."

Kiku didn't say anything for a few minutes. When he did speak up next, his voice had taken on an entirely different tone. "Is that... a panda?"

China spun back around, tugging his shirt down. "Never mind."

"You got a tattoo on your-"

"Come on, let's get something to eat!" China grabbed his hand and tugged him along. "You've got one of my best Chinatowns in this city-aru!" Something caught his eye, though, and he paused, Kiku running into him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Want me to buy you one?"

"What?" China blinked. "Oh, no..."

"Come on, nii-chan." And then Kiku dragged _him_ along, and China would do anything he wanted when he called him 'big brother'. He could say 'big brother' in Russian, or Norwegian, or whatever and China would still melt.

Kiku handed the vendor some money, then turned to China. "Pick one."

"I like the fish one."

Kiku nodded, and pointed to the fish-shaped balloon. The vendor handed its ribbon to China, and he promptly tied it to his wrist to that it wouldn't escape and float off. How cute! "Thank you."

They walked together at a more leisurely pace, China occasionally peeking up at his balloon. It was orange and had fins sticking out, and big googly eyes. Japan _would_ have done something nice like that. Just... not for him.

"Will you come to Alfred's party tomorrow?" Kiku asked.

"Ah... I'm afraid not-aru. My flight leaves in the early morning, and I have a meeting after I get back."

"That's too bad. But I guess you'll see us all again. Then you can meet Yong Soo."

"Korea, yes..." China smiled to himself, rolling his eyes. "Is he still all handsy?"

"Yes. Yes he is."

"It will be good to see him-aru. He drove me crazy, but I still miss him."

"I'm surprised you missed _me_, considering what you think I am and what you say I did. And I've read history books..."

"You'd be surprised what you can love someone through."

"I suppose so." Kiku laced his fingers behind his back. "If it were true, look at me and Alfred..."

"No, you weren't the best of friends during the second World War-aru. But you were after!"

"And China and America were pretty pissed after the destruction of Japan in the third..."

"Yes," China agreed, expression darkening. "Yes we were."

"Er." Kiku dropped that line of thought. "So you wanted to eat?"

"Yes. You pick a place."

Kiku chose a seafood restaurant he was fond of, and China wasn't picky so he enjoyed it all. They sat on a bench and chatted as evening fell, enjoying the random bursts of fireworks. It was inevitable, with two celebrations only a few days apart, for there to be some extra celebrating in between.

"I had better get back to my hotel-aru," China finally said, reluctant to leave. "Then get to the airport."

"Of course," Kiku said. "It was nice hanging out with you today."

China smiled, pulling Kiku into a hug. "We'll have to again, when we all get together. Maybe I'll see you at our upcoming meeting in London?"

"London, huh? Um, we'll see. Hey, what are you going to do with your balloon?"

"Ah! I hadn't thought about that!" China sulked. He should have gone for a stuffed animal instead. "I guess you should hang onto it." He untied the ribbon from his wrist, and handed it to Kiku. "Take care of him."

Kiku smiled, and China melted anew at the sight of his brother smiling at him. "I will."

* * *

Canada hung up with his boss, yawning. He'd _thought_ about mentioning Alfred on a few occasions, but changed his mind. Why did world leaders need to know about that yet? They'd figure out what to do with their former nations at the meeting. Hopefully.

He glanced at the clock and winced. "I forgot how long-winded he can be when I've been gone a while." And how easily he himself lost track of time. It would be interesting to see what his guests had done to his house. England, at least, tended to leave the place neater than when he arrived. But if Alfred was anything like America... and he was...

Alfred, though, was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. Some stupid comedy movie was on TV, and he was hunched over a pad of paper, drawing. Canada stepped closer and peered over his shoulder, then tried hard to suppress his laughter.

"What are you snickering about?" Alfred said. "I happen to think my art style is quite good."

"It's... just like America's. Down to the way you made yourself sparkle."

"That's not me!" Alfred handed him the drawing. "Well, it could be. I don't know."

"Aww, how sweet..." It was the two of them, plus England and France. One big happy family? Okay, so the thought of all four of them living together made him want to cringe. "I like how you drew France trying to pinch our butts. Realistic."

"I try."

"What's that other drawing?"

"Nothing." Alfred quickly flipped it over.

Canada swooped in and grabbed it. He gave it a brief look, then handed it back.

"I told you."

Canada coughed. "Well, I've seen the things France doodles. Not much shocks me. Um, anyway, where is England?"

Alfred shrugged. "In the tub."

"You got along okay?"

"Oh, sure. Mostly we just watched TV. And he told me a bit about some of the other nations. What's up with Prussia still being around?"

"Beats me." Every time Canada thought he understood how things worked, something changed. "Didn't you meet him at my party? Light hair, red eyes?"

Alfred pursed his lips. "I don't think so."

"Well, he spent a lot of time by the cooler." Canada settled down on the floor beside Alfred, digging game controllers out. "Come on, I'll kick your ass some more."

"Only if I keep letting you win, brother mine." Alfred winked at him.

* * *

The following morning, Antonio glanced around the very crowded restaurant booths in triumph. "I do believe that's everybody!"

"You're a lifesaver," Kiku said. "This will be a nice birthday treat. I know he wasn't expecting us to collect everyone so soon."

"I don't want to go to some idiot's party," Vash grumbled. "Or join his club. So my family was from Switzerland? It's not gonna give us a ton to talk about at meetings..."

"I think it's interesting," his step-sister Lili said, staring at her folded hands. "Besides, I've seen Alfred around school. He's kind of cute."

Vash scowled at her. "He's made a move on you, hasn't he! When I see him today...!"

"No, Vash," Antonio said. "Just smile and be nice." Vash's scowl lessened slightly, and Antonio nodded. "That's better."

"I think I'm going to move to another table," Roderich said, trying to free himself from Yong Soo, who was practically in his lap. The cheerful Asian didn't seem to mind the set up.

"What time is the party?" Katyusha wondered.

"Not until later in the afternoon," Kiku said. "Thankfully, it shouldn't be as crowded as his brother's party..."

Antonio tilted his head. "He's got a brother?"

* * *

"Guess what day it is!" Alfred hurried into the room and practically pounced on Canada's bed, interrupting his morning reading. Said nation glanced up and blinked.

"You're naked!"

"I am not," Alfred scoffed. "I've got boxers on. It was too warm for pajamas."

"Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"I will! I need to rummage through your closet for something new." He flopped onto his stomach, chin propped on his hands. "Sooo, guess what day it is."

"Your birthday?"

"Yes!" He released his head to give a thumb's up. "My age no longer ends in -teen!"

"That's a good milestone," Canada agreed. "You should have seen the party for my 100th, a while back. And the others didn't even usually go to my parties back then."

"I get it, you're not human." Alfred made a face. It was hard to imagine his sweet, innocent lookalike as an ancient being who had fought in wars. And he was still quite young by the others' standards! He didn't even want to think about England's age... "I might make it to 100, but I probably won't be nearly so pretty or coherent."

"Please." Canada raked a hand through his hair. "I don't want to think about you aging like that."

"Sorry."

"Let's make it through one birthday at a time." He slid off the bed, and rummaged around underneath. "I have something for you."

"A present?" Alfred pushed himself back into a sitting position.

"A present." Canada reemerged with a box—a box Alfred instantly recognized, and felt guilty for having peeked into already. But he was so touched that he didn't need to feign an emotional reaction when he opened it.

"Are you sure? I can have this?" Alfred clutched the jacket to his chest. "I don't know..."

"You can," Canada said, voice softer than usual. "You should wear it. You are sort of him, after all."

"Wow... This is the coolest present ever!" He slipped it on, and it felt like returning home—if such an analogy could be used for wearing an article of clothing. He pretended not to notice the tears trickling from Canada's eyes. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome. Wouldn't be the first time I saw him wearing that and little else..."

Alfred laughed, hugging himself. "Well, I love it." He leaned over to kiss his brother's cheek. And he did still think of him as his brother, even with the difference in ages and species and whatnot. They _used_ to be, at any rate, so close enough. "Will I freak England out, wearing this?"

"Probably." Canada smiled slightly. "But anything would bother him today. Your birthday upset him even when America was alive." He reached out to run a hand through the fur collar. "Any dreams last night?"

"Actually, yes! Oh! I think you were in it!"

"I was?" Canada perked up.

"I was a little kid, and it was winter, and there was another little kid who looked like me, so I assume it was you. Kind of anticlimactic after a couple war dreams..."

His brother chuckled. "You dreamed of us as kids? Aww..."

"Yeah. We were playing in the snow, and building snowmen."

"We did that a lot. You liked to use extra twigs to make eyebrows on your England-snowmen."

"Yeah! I did that! And the funniest thing happened to you. You made the snowman's body too big-"

Canada groaned. Apparently he saw where the story was going. "Not that time. When I had to really stretch to get the head on, and it rolled back off onto me?"

"Yes!" Alfred laughed at the memory. "You screamed like a little girl."

"So did you when I stuffed snow down your shirt."

Alfred's laughter trailed off when he realized how odd it was to discuss his dream with someone like it had actually happened. Well, it _had_. Hundreds of years ago.

Canada gave him a curious look, possibly thinking the same thing. "Well, anyway, I'd like to get dressed, even if you don't."

"Okay."

Alfred resumed studying his jacket, until he realized there were still eyes on him. "What?"

"Could I have some privacy?"

"You're my twin! You don't have anything I haven't seen on myself."

"Go."

"Okay, okay..."

Alfred wandered into the hall, and couldn't resist peeking into the room England would be borrowing for another day before he, too, returned home. He was seated at a small desk in the corner, huddled over it like he was poring over something important, though Alfred could see no papers. He could, however, see the more-than-half-empty bottle.

"Oh, seriously? You're drinking? It's not even noon!"

"S'only early for you," England mumbled, forcing Alfred to strain his ears. "For me, it's really late."

Alfred cringed. "That's even less healthy."

"Go 'way."

"Nuh uh. Do you need coffee or something?"

"I _said_ go _'way_, stupid bloody tea-dumping independence-declaring brat..."

"Um." Alfred tilted his head. Many things he was, but those weren't among them. "It's me. Alfred. I'm not America... sort of."

"Mmf..." England finally turned, gazing at Alfred with bloodshot eyes, which promptly widened. He stood, chair falling to the side. "America. It really _is_ you..."

"What? No, no." Alfred shook his head vigorously. "I'm Alfred. Canada gave me his jacket as a present." He backed away as the shorter man lurched forward.

"America... I really missed you..."

This couldn't be helping England at all. It wasn't doing much for Alfred's frame of mind. "I'm not-"

He was cut off by England's lips pressing firmly against his own, as the nation's arms snaked around him to hold him close. Alfred promptly, and temporarily, jerked back. "Stop-!" His mind screamed at him to get the hell away _now_, though his traitorous body was content to stay put. England's mouth was nice and warm and soft, and there was not much fabric separating their bodies, and...

Alfred managed to push the tipsy man away. "I'm not America, England, and you're drunk. No kissing until you're sober and aware of who I am, okay?"

England's head drooped. "Just go 'way..." he mumbled. "Brat."

"Right. See you." Alfred hurried out. Sure enough, Canada was waiting for him in the hall. He couldn't get away with _anything_... "It wasn't my fault!" One of these days, he'd visit England's room without it ending in kissing and unhappiness.

Canada gave him a surprised look, eyebrow raising. "_What_ wasn't your fault?"

"Um..." Dammit. "Nothing. He's drunk..."

"Oh." His twin shook his head with a sigh "Already?"

"I don't think he slept."

Canada, who normally kept his eyes at a downward cast, seemed to see something interesting above Alfred's head and studied it intently. "All right, I'll take care of him again. And you..."

"Go get dressed before people show up?" Alfred guessed.

"Well, yes." Canada's face was reddening. "After a cold shower maybe." He pivoted and quickly walked off.

Alfred coughed, glancing down at himself, his own face heating. "I can't control that!"


	9. Chapter 9

_Wow, 100+ reviews! You guys are great, really! :D_

_I so have not abandoned my other ongoing stories. Just a slight case of writer's block. Which is annoying, since I know what happens next, it just refuses to get written, rar._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Kiku led the group up to the front door, relieved to have finally reached their destination. Seven hot people squeezed into one car, bickering the whole way, was not the way to travel.

"What a _place_," Antonio muttered, shielding his eyes as he peered upward. "Al's got a brother here, you say?"

Kiku nodded, and reached for the doorbell. Before he could touch it, though, a girl's voice called out to them.

"Is this where Alfred's party is? Are you friends of his? Oh, Kiku!"

They all turned, to find themselves facing a lovely, dark-haired girl in a pink dress. She _did_ look familiar to Kiku, but why...? "Oh! Lakshmi." What was _she_ doing there? Kiku hadn't seen her since high school. She was... He mentally smacked his forehead when he remembered that she was one of 'them', as well. Alfred had probably remembered, and given her a call. "It's nice to see you again." He quickly introduced everyone, and there were nods exchanged and hands shaken. "And yes, we're here for his party."

"I'm glad I didn't miss it." She fell back to stand with Lili and Katyusha as Kiku finally rang the doorbell.

"Hi, Alfred!" Antonio said cheerfully when the door was pulled open. "Good to see you again! Happy birthday, man. Can we come in?" Everybody leaned in to give him similar greetings, with a variety of smiles.

"Um..." The bespectacled blond looked over the group, eyes widening. "Wow. Look at all of you... Um, I'll go tell Alfred you're here. Come in!" He disappeared inside, and the group exchanged confused looks.

"That wasn't him?" Antonio asked.

"No," Kiku said, feeling incredibly stupid for not recognizing when someone _wasn't_ his best friend. "His brother."

Antonio sighed. "Not only does he have a brother he never mentioned, he has a _twin_ he never mentioned? What's up with that?" They wandered inside, taking in the scenery. Kiku had been inside before, to use the bathroom during the last party, so he already knew what to expect. He heard somebody mutter something about this brother obviously being the favorite.

"Kiku!" A familiar loud voice called. "And Antonio! And... good grief, did you bring everyone?"

"Hello, Alfred-kun." Kiku smiled. "Happy birthday. And yes, Antonio and I have collected everyone."

"That was fast!" Alfred pulled both of his friends into a hug. "I wasn't expecting a gathering like this for another week or two."

The group set their presents down on the table, and Antonio started to wander around, studying the artwork on the walls and movie collection on the shelves. "Where's this British fellow you fancy?"

Alfred eyed Kiku. Oops. "Sorry, Alfred-kun."

"Well he's not feeling well," Alfred said. "He might have to sit this party out. Lakshmi, hi, long time no see!"

They all exchanged greetings, and several of them cooed over Alfred's new leather jacket. Even Vash managed to make polite small talk, though he kept a close eye on his sister and wouldn't let her get too close to Al.

"So what's up with you having a brother?" Antonio demanded. "You never mentioned him before!"

"I only recently met him," Alfred said cheerily. Apparently he wasn't going to get into the whole ridiculous country thing just yet, as he fed them the regular human version of the story. "He's Matthew, we were apparently separated at birth. Cool, huh?"

"I think he got the better end of the deal," Antonio said, glancing around again.

Alfred's brother returned, and everyone was introduced. They got on with the party, which started with opening presents, of course. Alfred seemed to like them all, even the ones from the people who barely knew him. To Kiku's surprise, the one who seemed the least happy to be there had provided the best gift, though nobody else seemed thrilled. Kiku included.

"Why would you give him a paintball gun?" he asked Vash. "I have to live with him, you know."

"Oh, I'm not surprised," Canada said.

"Don't listen to them." Alfred grinned broadly. "It's awesome!"

Vash gave him a polite nod, then winced when Lili elbowed him. "What?"

"I told you that might not go over well," Roderich said.

"Shut up. He likes it. Better than your gift."

"That's not true," Alfred protested. "I like all video games. Including the musicky rhythm ones!"

Lakshmi didn't join in on the conversations much. Kiku wasn't sure if she was just plain shy, or intimidated by the way most of the others seemed to know each other. He scooted closer to her, hoping to make her feel less left out. They had gotten along okay in high school, when he knew her through Alfred.

"It is nice to see you again," he said. "What have you been doing these days?"

"Nursing school," she said. "You?"

"Same here. Well, not _nursing_ school."

"Is it true that Alfred likes some British fellow, like Antonio said?"

Kiku rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's true. But they only just met, if you're interested in getting back together with him. I mean, they were eyeing each other and blushing the whole time I saw them together, but, you know..."

"It's all right, I was only curious."

"Come on, gang!" Alfred said, waving his arms. "Let's get grilling! It's been a few days since I've had some good old barbecue, I could really go for some!" He marched out back, and the rest trailed after them.

Canada (Or Matthew? But Kiku had already gotten used to referring to him as such...) manned the grill, while the others mingled. Lili hid the paintball gun back in the house before it could be tested. Kiku was going to keep Lakshmi company again, but she had rejoined Lili and Katyusha, and they seemed to be entertaining themselves and giggling. He moved to hang out with Antonio instead.

Vash and Roderich were chatting together, and occasionally seemed to be arguing.

And Yong Soo was... somewhere. Kiku couldn't see him. So he probably should have expected it when he was again pounced on. "Hello, Yong Soo," he said when he regained his balance.

"Hi, Kiku!" He gave Kiku a squeeze.

"Why don't you go jump on the birthday boy?"

"Okay!"

"That was almost too easy," Kiku said to Antonio once he was released.

"Mean of you, though." But Antonio grinned as they heard Alfred's cry of alarm.

It wasn't the most integrated party, but they managed to enjoy themselves.

To Kiku's dismay, Alfred decided to use that time to inform them of the silly story he'd been fed. He repeated his tale of meeting his brother, and the one he initially knew as Arthur, eagerly moving on to the revelation they had told him.

Needless to say, it didn't go over well. The girls plus Yong Soo giggled, Roderich looked baffled, and Vash rolled his eyes with a disgusted look. Kiku was simply alarmed that Alfred did indeed seem to believe it...

"What the hell does that even mean?" Antonio demanded. "Countries? People can't be countries. Countries just... are!"

"You'd think so," Alfred said. "But really, they exist for the entire time their country does! Some of them have been around thousands of years! They fight in the wars their country's involved in, and are affected by things that affect the country, and are hurt by attacks on it. And they die when their country dies, which doesn't happen very often, but that's what happened to _our_ countries. So that's where we come in! The... personifications of ours were killed off in the war, and for some reason, were reborn as... us!"

"I'm out of here..." Vash said. "You're obviously nuts. Come on, Lili."

"I'm not nuts!" Alfred said with an alarming grin. "I didn't believe it either! But why would _so_ many people get together and invent a story like this? Tell them, Kiku, there were a _lot_ of them at Canada's party, right?"

"Right..."

"Stop calling him that!" Antonio said. "It's... unpatriotic!"

"And that's not good evidence," Katyusha added. "We might be part of some reality show."

Alfred assumed a triumphant pose, sunlight flashing off his glasses. Kiku's heart sank. His friend really was lost. "So..." Al said, "anybody have any weird dreams lately? Vivid dreams of historical events?"

Kiku felt like he'd been punched. _What?_ How could he know that? The rest of the group stiffened and gasped, and Kiku looked around in alarm. They had _all_ been experiencing that?

This was getting a little creepy.

"Ev-everyone dreams," Antonio said. "It doesn't mean anything."

"I also thought that at first," Alfred said. "Until it turned out England and Canada knew my dreams as well as I did, because it _really happened_. All I need to do is give them a basic outline, and they can finish the details of the dream for me. Katyusha!"

The girl squeaked. "Wh-what?"

"I bet you've at least once had a dream about a big scary man with purple eyes!"

"O-oh my god!"

Kiku figured that was a yes. And then, all of a sudden, it hit him. His eyes grew wide. "Ohh..."

"Yes, Kiku?" Alfred was _enjoying_ himself.

"I remember now..." Kiku shook his head. "I had a dream that you and I were fighting. I didn't think anything of it, that was after the first time you tried telling me I was... Japan. But..." He let out a breath. "You were wearing that jacket! That very one."

"World War Two?" Canada guessed, flipping a batch of burger patties over. Kiku's heart sank further as his friend's gentle-looking twin described their uniforms in great detail. He even managed to name a specific battle after asking a few additional questions. "Anyone else want me to help with dream interpretations?"

Antonio scowled. "There was this pirate bastard-"

He was cut off by Canada's laughter. "Ahh. Of course. Maybe you'll meet him later, though he's not feeling well right now. Blond? Big eyebrows?"

Alfred chuckled, too. "Was England mean to you in your dreams? I guess he would have been a bit of a bastard in the past..."

"So what does this mean?" Vash demanded. "Okay, so we've had weird dreams about being... countries. What now? What difference does it make?"

"I have even better news!" Alfred said. "The rest of the nations want to meet all of you. And try and figure out what to make of this. You missed them a few days ago, but most of them had to get back home, much as they wanted to wait. We didn't expect to get you all together right away, anyway. But! They'll be meeting up in London in a couple weeks, and we're all invited! All expenses paid!"

"_All expenses?_" Canada gave his brother a stern look. "I never said that!"

"Well, airfare and lodging..."

"I didn't say lodging!"

"It was implied. So! I hope everyone's coming?"

For a free trip to another country, they would have probably been okay with it had they been told they were incarnations of pure evil planning a world takeover.

"What do you think?" Antonio quietly asked Kiku, while the others chatted among themselves, all sounding utterly baffled.

Kiku slowly shook his head. He couldn't come up with an appropriate response.

"Did you know about this?"

"I..." He swallowed. "I knew, yes. He told me at the party the other day. I thought it was silly, and I didn't want to tell anyone. Oh, and that Yao I told you I was meeting at the park was, you know, China."

"Do you believe it, then?" Spain's green eyes were a bit wild.

"I don't know... What makes more sense? That we used to be the living personifications of countries, or that we have psychic dreams?"

"Psychics I've heard of. Country people? Not so much..."

"This is so cool!" Yong Soo was beaming. "I always knew I was special! I'm Korea!"

"Not everyone's having trouble with this, I guess," Antonio murmured.

"Who wants a burger?" Canada asked. Alfred had already piled up a plateful. "Spain? Japan? India?"

Satisfied, a figure slunk away from his hiding spot behind some bushes, and fled.

* * *

Antonio hummed to himself as he wandered toward the kitchen on a beer run. Alfred's bizarre speech seemed less so with every drink! Well, no, it was still pretty bizarre. What did a nation person do, anyway? Sit around and keep track of the grass growing and mountains getting snow? Alfred had said they fought in all their wars, among other things. That seemed like a shitty life.

"Hey, don't I know you?" he asked, eyeballing the blond fellow helping himself to a drink of water.

"You must be Antonio," he said after a quick glance. British. Was he the one Alfred had the hots for, then?

Wait a minute... "You're that pirate bastard!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Er, from a dream I had." Antonio located the beer in the fridge and helped himself.

"Oh. You had dreams like that too, huh?"

"Yeah. You didn't have to be so mean!"

"It was a long time ago." He shrugged. "It was what we did."

Antonio snorted. Then he realized he was getting mad at someone for being a jerk in a dream. Never mind that he had dreamed about someone _before_ meeting him. _Then_ he reminded himself that he was on a mission. "So! My friend, he's pretty hot, huh?"

The British fellow slowly blinked. "You mean Alfred?"

"Of course!"

"Um." He turned away quickly. "Yes. Yes he is."

"And he's very nice. And funny."

"I know."

"And he's got this hero-complex going on, so if he likes you, he'd do anything for you!"

"I know!"

"So you should ask him out!"

"Bloody hell. Did the idiot send you in for him?"

Well damn, Alfred deserved someone nicer. "No. Never mind. I don't know what he sees in a mean pirate. I'll fix him up with someone else..."

As he left, he thought he heard a mutter of "Like hell you will."

* * *

Alone again, Alfred relaxed on a deck chair, gazing up at the emerging stars as night fell. The others had either returned inside, or left entirely to prepare for their trip. He was content to stay out in the evening air, even if it meant slapping at the occasional mosquito. Fireworks would be starting soon, he didn't want to miss that. Hopefully he wouldn't have to move to see them, but the backyard had been a fine vantage point for the show a few days ago.

"Is this seat taken?" The chair beside him was abruptly occupied. Alfred turned his head to watch England settle himself down and pick up a teacup.

"Coffee would sober you up better," Alfred pointed out.

"I'm sober enough." England sipped at the steaming liquid. "I've been drinking for longer than this has been a country, I know what I'm doing."

"That's probably not something you should admit to." Alfred turned back to the stars. "How are you doing?"

"Better once this bloody day is over. Second worst day of my life..."

"What was the worst?" he had to ask.

"The last time I saw him."

Alfred tucked his hands behind his head, wondering if that was something they should talk about when England was already distraught. Well, he brought it up. "Did you have a fight?" How many tragic romances featured a fighting couple never being able to apologize?

"No. We kissed, I told him to be careful, and he got into his jet."

"Oh. That's actually sweet." Alfred smiled to himself. That sounded more like a _cool_ tragic romance action flick.

"I didn't tell him I love him." His voice sounded pained.

"Well, you didn't know what was going to happen. He still knew you loved him. His last thoughts were probably nice ones of you; trust me, I would know."

He saw England turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. "But still..."

"You parted on good terms. What more could you want? Your last words to him could have been angry."

"I know. We did fight a lot." England sighed heavily. "What do you mean, 'trust me, I would know'?"

"I am him, silly. I know how his mind works."

"Hm." England studied him a moment longer, then settled back. "As for what you said this morning..."

Alfred winced. "Ah. Weren't you drunk then?"

"Doesn't mean I automatically forget everything that happens. I'm sorry for kissing you, by the way. But you did seem to imply that kissing you would be perfectly okay when I was sober and aware that it was you."

Alfred's face heated up again. "Well..."

"And that was not a gun in your pocket."

If it had been, he would turn it on himself now. "Would you guys stop commenting on that!"

England just shrugged. "So as long as the others are all aware of their upcoming trip to my home, there's no reason for you to stick around. Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"

"Are you inviting me to your house?" Alfred sat up, smile stretching into a grin.

"I guess. It was Canada's idea. He didn't like the thought of us abandoning you. I pointed out that you _live_ here, but..."

"Well, that sounds fun! I've never been out of the country before."

"Never?" England also sat up, frowning.

"Nope."

"Hm..."

"But that'll change tomorrow!"

"That will change tonight. Since we're leaving tomorrow, I want to show you something." England swung his legs around and stood, then held his hand out for Alfred, tugging him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Alfred hurried after England, who was already on the move.

"You'll see."

And soon Alfred found himself in the passenger seat of England's rented car, gazing outside and wondering where the hell they were going on the evening before they had to get up and catch a flight? Or was it a later flight? Canada's flight was early. He was pretty sure. Well, either way, it was late. The short Brit remained silent as he drove, staring ahead with an unreadable expression. It was only after they had sped along Highway 99 for ten minutes or so that Alfred realized they were going _south_.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

After a certain point, buildings were either brand new, or piles of rubble that were still being cleared away after all those years. There had been various direct attacks on Canada during the war, but they had mostly been concentrated to the east. The border towns, however, had all suffered from the attacks on its southern neighbor.

Alfred didn't want to see it. His parents had refused to travel south of Vancouver, and he had apparently inherited that lack of desire. He wasn't sure why he said nothing to England, did nothing to stop him. He simply stared out the window at the increasingly depressing scenery.

"Here we are..." England murmured, parking in a field.

"I don't know about this." Alfred hunched over in his seat. "Doesn't seem like a good idea."

"You'll be fine."

"And you?"

"I've been here before." He unfastened his seat-belt and slipped out. With a sigh, Alfred followed suit.

"Oh..." Alfred froze, staring ahead. He'd heard of it, seen pictures, but... "My god."

"Sad, huh?" England shook his head as they gazed at the white wall that stretched as far as the eye could see. "That was the longest international border in the world."

"It looks like..." Alfred swallowed. The flowers placed along the base of the wall didn't help.

"A tombstone?"

"Yeah."

"I know." England nudged him forward. "Come on." They walked closer, Alfred a bit reluctant. He felt uneasy, a lump of worry forming in the pit of his stomach. Especially when England approached the wall, reached out to touch it briefly, then bent over with hands laced together.

"Nuh uh." Alfred shook his head.

"Go on."

"No way."

"Alfred... you're not being heroic."

Alfred set his jaw. Nobody insulted his heroism, dammit. If he could watch ghost movies with Kiku (which totally didn't scare him), he could do this with England. He stepped on the blond nation's hands and boosted himself up onto the wall. He carefully scooted around, and reached down to give England a hand up. Then he turned.

"Oh... that's..." What words were there to describe a former country in ruins? Alfred couldn't see far, no artificial light existed on the other side of the wall. But in the moonlight he could make out ruins and rubble where once a city had stood. No life grew, he could make out no grass or trees. Nothing. He swallowed thickly. "Is that Seattle? Where my parents are from?" Geography had never been his strong point.

"No," England said in a hushed voice. "That's a ways south of here. That's Blaine."

"Oh," he said, though the name meant nothing. "You've come here before?"

"To pay my respects, in a way. Sometimes with the others. Except Canada. This is one place he won't go." England leaned closer. "It may sound weird, but it's less painful over here. I could never ever look at the remains of the thirteen colonies..."

Alfred nodded absently, staring ahead.

"This was where the Peace Arch was," England murmured. "You've heard of it, probably. 'May these gates never be closed', it said..."

"Don't talk about it if it upsets you." Alfred glanced at England out of the corner of his eye. "Why did you bring me here?"

"To show you. It's part of your heritage, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." Alfred peered into the dark, suddenly wishing it were day. He wasn't sure why, as he hadn't even wanted to look, but now he felt like he just had to see it more clearly. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had slid off the edge of the wall.

"Alfred!" England hissed from behind and above. "What the _bloody_ _hell_ are you doing, you idiot! You can't do that! We were just going to look!"

Alfred ignored him, striding deeper into what used to be the United States, plodding over scorched, dead earth and broken chunks of pavement. They had come this far, he wanted to see the ruins up close. They used to be his, after all! He could hear England's voice yelling at him. It sounded so familiar and commonplace, he easily tuned it out—even if that made no sense, seeing as how they hadn't even known each other a week and England hadn't yelled much.

It hit him like a sledgehammer. The sudden, intense feeling of loss, a hollow emptiness that filled him. It defied reason that something so empty could hurt so much. Alfred collapsed with a strangled scream.

"_Alfred!_" He was dimly aware of rapidly approaching feet, of hands grabbing him by the shoulders. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Hurts," Alfred managed to get out between clenched teeth. "Emptiness... oh god..." Icy terror lanced through him as the mysterious pain grew unbearable. What was _happening_ to him?

"Shit." England's face hovered before his own, eyes wide and expression worried. "_Shit_, I shouldn't have brought you... I had no idea. Can you stand up?" If England wanted an answer, he wasn't getting one. Alfred just curled up in a tighter ball. He soon found himself back against the wall with no idea how he had returned, but there must have been a lot of dragging on England's part.

"You have to get up," England said, voice sharp. "I can't pick you up and throw you over. Come on, hero, stand up."

Alfred pressed against the wall and forced himself upright. He was able to boost England back up, and then... he again wasn't sure how they managed to succeed, but the next thing he knew, they were back on the Canadian side. The last thing he heard was England's rapid, worried questions, before he sank into the nice oblivious darkness.

* * *

Kiku couldn't help but smile as he watched the two pairs snuggled together on the couch. He had only known the man they called Russia very briefly, but already it felt strange to see the intimidating fellow being so tender with someone. He held Katyusha—whom he claimed was his sister—and didn't seem to have any plans on releasing her in the near future.

The other pair was the opposite. Antonio seemed more than happy to adopt the grumpy Italian and hold him on his lap.

It had been an interesting reunion.

"_Hey, get the door, Kiku," Antonio said._

"_It's not my house."_

"_Well Ma... Ca... the homeowner is upstairs doing something. Al's outside. You're the next in line."_

"_All right, all right." Kiku went to open the door, letting in the latecomers. He realized they were both familiar._

"_I hope we're not too late," the violet-eyed Russian said, holding up a present._

"_I'm only here because the burger-bastard made me a promise," the Italian added._

"_Ah," Kiku said. "Yes, come in. They're all here, so..."_

_And the happy reunion commenced. Russia hugged Katyusha to himself, murmuring in his own language, and refused to let go. The Italian—who introduced himself as Italy Romano—scowled at Antonio. Kiku was a bit surprised by that, considering how adamant he had been about meeting the Spanish man._

"_About damn time, jackass," Romano muttered, staring at the floor. "Making me worry all these years. Pisses me off."_

_Antonio stared in shock for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. "You are the cutest thing!"_

So Romano had spent a lot of time swearing and struggling in Antonio's grip, but it all really seemed half-hearted, and Kiku doubted he was that serious. And he eventually settled down, leaning against Antonio with arms folded. The whole time, Antonio grinned and went on about how cute the Italian was and how he'd never let go, and everyone pretended they didn't see Romano's expression soften at that.

Katyusha was, for some reason, just as enamored of her 'brother' as he was of her. It baffled Kiku, who was content to stay as far from him as possible. And since they were both speaking Russian (or was it Ukrainian?) to each other, he had no idea what was going on between them. Well, whatever made them happy.

The others had returned home, aside from Yong Soo, who had had a few drinks too many and was curled up in a ball in the corner. An occasional snore emanated from him.

"How'd I die?" Antonio wondered after a while. Kiku couldn't help but smile. After just a handful of hours, apparently he was ready to believe. Unless he was just pretending.

Romano looked away and said nothing, so Russia spoke up instead.

"Bombs. The countries that died were either bombed, or so severely attacked by the armies that they may as well have been. And their representative killed. You were caught in the bombing of Madrid."

"Oh." Antonio winced.

"You were the last one lost in the war. Portugal barely survived that attack, and France managed."

"That I remember. Reading about, I mean."

"And me?" Katyusha asked.

"We were the first ones to suffer such severe attacks, my surrounding countries and I." Russia sighed. "But with our own armies, and the help of our allies, we were all able to persevere, except Ukraine. By the time I found her-" Russia's expression darkened. "-bullet-riddled body, America was already there." And his faced changed again, softening. "I hadn't seen him that upset in a long time. He'd really tried to save her. We comforted each other and grew closer..."

"It was ironic," Romano added. "We'd always expected those two jackasses to destroy the world someday when they tried to destroy each other. And they ended up becoming friends again."

Kiku didn't really want to know the details of his own 'death'. He was happier just imagining Japan, too, had been caught in his country's devastation. Judging by the horrified expressions of China and the others, that probably wasn't the case.

He was saved from someone else asking when Russia decided to change the subject. "You believe us? About what you used to be?"

"I do." Katyusha grinned. "And you're the little brother I've always wanted."

Kiku gave her a puzzled look. Was she the only one immune? Of course, he supposed someone like Russia would make a good brother. He knew _he_ wouldn't fuck with someone related to him...

"Sure," Antonio said. "Why not? Even if it means dealing with that pirate bastard..."

Kiku sighed. His friend had a one-track mind sometimes. "Perhaps you could open up a history book sometime, Inquisition-Conquistador-san."

"Shut up. _You_ attacked Al. Of course, he-"

"Anyway," Romano interrupted, gaining Antonio's immediate attention. That was as strange as Katyusha's instant sibling affection. Had Romano said one nice thing to the man he'd seemed so eager to meet? Yet Antonio was already infatuated. And Alfred liked England...

The fact that Kiku was already looking forward to seeing China again was _completely_ different.

"Another weird thing," Antonio said. "Shouldn't _all_ of you be girls? What happened to the motherlands? Mother Russia?"

"You can call me 'mother' if you want," Russia said, tone pleasant.

Antonio actually blanched. "That's okay." He tried to scoot further away from Russia. "Um. Romano! So... how did we know each other, anyway?"

"You raised me," Romano mumbled.

"I did? Really?" Antonio scratched his head with his free hand. "I should have taught you manners, I suppose..."

"Goddammit, you...!"

Antonio just laughed, poking Romano's cheek.

Everyone (except Russia) gave a start when the front door banged open. They turned to witness England slowly making his way inside, Alfred carried awkwardly piggyback. He turned an impassive gaze on the crowd, eyes roving over the happily reunited pairs. "Um. We went out drinking. Anyone want to give me a hand? He's bloody heavy."

* * *

_I can pretty easily make myself laugh, and other people's sad stories can make me teary. But so far, the only time I've managed to choke myself up with this story is writing about the Peace Arch. -sniffle- _


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"England? You awake?"

England jerked up in his chair, blinking. When had he dozed off? He turned his gaze to the baby blue eyes watching him from the bed. "Alfred! _You're_ awake?"

"Yeah." He gave a cheeky grin. "Did you bring me back here all by yourself?"

England sagged in relief. Alfred _seemed_ okay. "Until the front door. Then Russia picked you up and carried you here."

"Russia's here now?" Alfred frowned. "He's late. He missed the party."

England shook his head. "He's gone now. But he left a present. Want it?"

"Sure." Alfred fumbled for the glasses England had set on the nightstand.

England rose from the chair, stretching his protesting limbs, and padded over to retrieve the present from where Russia had left it on the desk. "There," he said, depositing it in Alfred's waiting hands. He smiled as he watched the tall blond tear into the wrapping paper with tongue poking out. "I'm glad you're feeling better. You are, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I took you there..."

"Don't be sorry." Alfred glanced up at him. "You couldn't have known that would happen."

"I know, but-"

"Stop worrying about it. Aww..." He lifted a Russian wooden rabbit toy out of the package. "How cute."

"That's actually really sweet of him," England said, tilting his head. Russia, giving thoughtful presents?

"Hold on, there's something else!" Alfred next pulled out a small box and frowned slightly. "That's... an interesting gift." He peered closer. "They're too small."

England snatched it away. "It's a long story. Never mind." He sat down on the edge of the bed.

Alfred just smiled, studying the toy some before setting it down nearby. "Why'd you keep calling me 'hero' back there? I mean, I _am_, but I wasn't doing anything especially heroic at the time."

"Oh..." A smile flicked across England's face. "I did that sometimes with America when I _really_ wanted him to do something. I didn't abuse it, though."

"Now that you've told me, it won't work anymore, I suppose."

"I guess not. But it's served its purpose." He fell silent, watching Alfred, looking into that face he had loved for so long. He reached over and idly flicked Alfred's cowlick. "Nantucket," he murmured.

"What?"

"That's what that is. Nantucket. An island off Massachusetts."

"Oh." Alfred chuckled. "I had no idea my hair was locations. What else is there?"

"You want me to detail every part of your body?"

"Um..." He blushed. "Maybe later."

That had not been quite what England meant. He quickly changed the subject. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Alfred nodded. "Fine, really. Now that we're away from there, it's like it never happened." His eyes drifted shut. "If you want total honesty, I'm trying very hard to not _remember_ it."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." Alfred opened one eye and smiled.

"Sor—right." England cleared his throat. "You know..."

"Hmm?"

"Well, all this time... I guess I've still been kind of conflicted. About you."

"You don't say."

"Don't joke, dammit! Anyway, it's just that, even after we determined that you really did used to be America, I still couldn't decide how much... how much of him you were. The exact same person? Or someone new who inherited his looks and personality? Would you just be a replacement?"

"That kind of confused me, too."

"None of the others seem to have that problem," England muttered. "They can accept your friends as the nations they used to be."

"But you still can't?"

"Ah..." England scrubbed a hand down his face. "That's what I'm trying to say. I can. After tonight..." He leaned down, resting his cheek against Alfred's chest. "You're back. It's really you." The confusion in his mind was finally fading. Only America would have reacted like that. It was hard to continue denying that they were one and the same.

Arms wrapped around him, and he bit his lip. _I'm not going to cry again, dammit._ He was perfectly content to lay like that for a few minutes, listening to Alfred's heartbeat, and occasional unmanly giggle when England's hair tickled the exposed skin at his throat. He finally pulled away then, shifting up to bring their lips together. Alfred's eyes widened, only for a second, before fluttering shut. To England's surprise, it was Alfred who first parted his lips, deepening the kiss, and he was only too glad to follow suit.

It did not at all surprise him that Alfred kissed just like America.

Warm fingers worked their way under England's shirt, tugging it over his head, and it ended up on the floor. He swatted at those fingers as they went for the pants next. It was _his_ turn. He removed Alfred's—America's—jacket and borrowed t-shirt and added them to the pile, then ran a hand down the smooth, unmarked chest. No myriad scars from countless battles. But that did not cause him to falter as it may have before, merely reminded him that America had a nice new body, untouched by war and disaster.

They worked in perfect harmony, just as they always had, removing each others' pants even as they continued to explore every inch of their mouths. England absently reached into the nightstand, also as he always had, only for his hand to encounter nothing. He sat up, straddling the naked human as he rummaged around.

"Well damn," England muttered. "I'm not at home. Um..." He looked down into half-lidded eyes. "Don't go anywhere."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

England slid off the bed, grabbing a sheet to wrap around himself, and raced out of the room. He tried the bathroom first, with no success. So, taking a deep breath, he ventured into Canada's room. The young pajama-clad nation was flipping through a magazine in bed, looking up as he was invaded. He casually watched as the mostly nude England dug through his nightstands.

"Can I help you?"

England gave him an annoyed look. "Don't you _ever_ have sex in this house?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business." Canada looked back at his magazine, then did an abrupt double take. "Wait. You and Alfred...?"

"Yes."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Obviously."

"So you-"

"Can we talk later?"

"Sorry." Canada reached into his nightstand and easily located a half-used tube. "There ya go." He tossed it to England. "I'll have to remember to keep some in the guest room."

"Do that." England hurried back, nearly tripping over the ends of the sheet, half expecting to find Alfred fast asleep. Fortunately, he was still eagerly waiting. _Very_ eagerly.

England dropped the sheet and resumed his position on top of Alfred, leaning over to kiss as much of the exposed skin as he could, tickling with his tongue, and occasionally nipping, until Alfred gently tugged on his hair to bring him closer, to bring their lips back together. He made a little disappointed noise when England pulled away, sitting up again. He scooted back until he was settled between Alfred's legs, licking lips that had formed a very pleased smile.

Not far away, Canada soon grimaced in annoyance. He loved them both, and was beyond happy that his brother was back, and that England had finally accepted it, and that they were happy together again. But come on... He put some headphones on, and returned to his magazine.

* * *

"Mnf..." Alfred yawned as he drifted out of sleep, wondering what time it was. It was still dark, so not time to be awake, that was for sure. He squinted at the clock radio. No, definitely not time to be awake. He gained an inkling of what had awakened him when he heard England's whispered voice, apparently on the phone. Who was he calling _now_? Obviously somebody on another end of the world.

"I just thought maybe you'd know something about this," he was saying. "You sometimes know about the weird shit that goes on... No, I'm not complaining. Of course I'm happy with the way things have turned out... Yes, I know I wasn't very happy a couple days ago. Things have changed. What? Oh, right, I'll see you later, then."

Alfred risked a peek. Nope, England wasn't on the phone. He was talking to himself. That was really weird. Well, whatever, he was too tired to care. He went back to sleep and forgot all about it.

* * *

Canada hummed to himself as he returned to his griddle. The batter was bubbling nicely, so he found his spatula and flipped the pancakes over. As far as he could tell, he was the first one up, and had figured it would be nice to surprise everyone with breakfast before he had to leave. Kiku had stayed the night on the couch, and Yong Soo could very well turn up. Nobody had really been sure about his eventual whereabouts last night.

He turned away from the stove, and promptly found himself enveloped in an embrace. He thought nothing of it until lips were pressed to his. "Mmhff?"

"What was that?" England purred, releasing him.

Canada rolled his eyes. "_Why_ would Alfred be cooking in my kitchen?"

"I don't know." England's only acknowledgment of the blunder was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. It had happened often enough in the decades he and America had been together...

"Wasn't he still in bed when you left?"

"Obviously not. I wouldn't be snogging you if I just saw Al upstairs."

"Oh, so it's 'Al' now." With a smile, Canada turned back to the stove, peeking under the pancakes.

"It's 'Al' now?" said another voice, and Canada jumped. Didn't _anybody_ shuffle their feet when they walked? "Oh, pancakes." Kiku stepped closer. "I love pancakes."

"Good." Canada scooped the first batch onto a plate, and poured on the second.

"So what were you two talking about?" Kiku wondered. "Are you and Alfred...?"

"Yes, yes we are," England said, sighing. "Yes, I'm comfortable with him now, yes, we slept together."

Kiku's expression hardened for some reason. "You _slept _with him? Last night? You took advantage of him when he was drunk?"

Canada turned on England, who was looking a bit worried. "You _what?_ You told _me_ he just fell asleep while you were sitting together outside! You got him drunk? England!" His happiness at them getting together was starting to dissipate. If he found out Alfred had been taken advantage of, Canada would be declaring some war...

"I did not!" England protested, scowling at them. "I lied to both of you."

"Maybe you should tell us what really happened before I start sending some warships off into the Atlantic."

"I'm getting to that, you git!" England shrugged. "Last night, we went to the border."

"The border?" Canada stared at him. He couldn't possibly mean... "You mean _the_ border?"

"What other border would I mean?"

Canada let out a slow breath. "And why did you do that?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. He's human, how was I to know it would hurt him?"

"It _what?_"

England actually took a step back. "You should flip your pancakes before you burn them."

"Cooking tips from _you_? Really?" Canada flipped them, a little harder than necessary.

"Anyway, _crossing_ the border wasn't my idea, he went ahead and did it before I had a chance to stop him!"

"I can't believe you took him there! It actually _hurt_ him to be there? That's why he was passed out?"

England mumbled, something about 'started screaming' and 'collapsed'. Canada winced, though he supposed there wasn't much to be angry about. None of them could have known that would happen to a human. "So... I brought him home," England continued, "And he woke up later, just fine."

"And you... had sex?" Kiku looked utterly baffled by the whole ordeal.

"It was consensual!"

"Ahh." The pieces fit together in Canada's head. "That explains it. His America-like reaction to his country cemented the connection in your head. Correct?"

"Pretty much. Will you put your warships away now?"

"I guess the UK is spared. But don't go near that disgusting wall with him again."

"You okayed it being built, you know."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." A soft sound escaped from England's lips. "What are you chuckling about?"

"You. You're more assertive than you used to be, but even back then, nobody was allowed to fuck with America."

"Nope." Canada smiled. Cuba was his friend, but he did have fond memories of the time he'd actually kicked Cuba's ass, after running across him beating up on the right brother for a change. He'd stopped picking on America after that. The fact that he also stopped accidentally picking on Canada had just been a nice bonus.

"Hey, gang!" Alfred sauntered in, apparently fresh from the bathroom, clad in bathrobe and towel turban. "Pancakes, yum!"

"Good morning," Canada said, pouring on another batch. "Sleep well?"

"You know it, bro." Alfred nudged him, winking, and England groaned.

"They all know, you know," England said.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to hide it."

"Quiet, Alfie."

"Don't call me that!"

"If you want to pay him back," Canada said pleasantly, "you could ask Kiku about nicknames for England..."

The British nation in question threw Canada a very annoyed look. "Why would you do that?"

"Kiku?" Alfred turned back to him. "What's a good nickname for England?"

Kiku shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know."

"His name just doesn't work. Engy? Britainy? Hmm. Or Uni, for United Kingdom..."

"Well, his name would be Igirisu in Japanese."

"Igirisu... Iggy?" A slow smile spread across Alfred's face. "I like that."

England gave Canada another dark look. "Why do you hate me? I'm going to cut off all trade with you."

Kiku looked a little embarrassed to have been a part of upsetting England. "Ah, Alfred-kun? Could we talk?" He tugged on his friend's arm, throwing minute glances England's way.

"Sure thing. Seeya, Iggy!"

Canada flipped the last batch of pancakes onto the plate. "Hope they don't take too long. Breakfast is ready. England? Where are you going? Hey, come on, I'm sorry but you _did_ keep calling him 'Alfie'..."

"That's not why I'm walking away," England said, keeping his voice low. He crept closer toward the room the boys had retreated into.

"_England!_" Canada hissed hurrying after them. "You pirate, don't spy on them!"

"They're talking about me," England whispered. "Did you see the worried looks Kiku kept giving me?"

"That doesn't give you permission to spy."

"If he's trying to screw things up between us..."

"I'm sure he isn't." But Canada was close enough to overhear, too, and he soon wasn't so sure. He dared to peer closer, with England, trying to see.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kiku was saying.

"What is this, all of a sudden?" Alfred laughed, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. "I thought you were rooting for me and England to get together."

"I was but... it just seems kind of weird. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Why would I get hurt?"

"He doesn't love you, Alfred, and he probably never will."

Beside him, Canada felt England stiffen. He reached over to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it was shoved away.

Alfred was finally starting to lose his cheery smile. "What?"

"He loves America."

"I am America!"

"It's still not the same thing. He's with you because of someone else, isn't he? He didn't even like being with you until he confirmed you were him."

"Because of painful memories!" Alfred frowned. "And it doesn't matter. I'm still him. And they've told me a zillion times I'm exactly like him, so I would possess all the qualities England loved, right? It doesn't matter."

"And you. You've known him what, a week? You don't even know how you feel about him yet."

Alfred sniffed. "I do so. I may not normally believe in love at first sight, but that's the only way I can describe it. The moment I saw him..." He gave a goofy, dreamy sigh. "So I probably inherited America's feelings, but what of it?"

"I'm sure you did." Kiku smiled slightly. "I can't think of any other reason Antonio would be so infatuated with someone who... verbally abused him."

"Where'd Antonio go, anyway?"

"He left with the fellow who verbally abused him."

"Well anyway, I know what I'm doing." Alfred crossed his arms. "It's a bizarre relationship, but it works. So far."

"All right." Kiku's smile grew. "You're a big idiot who jumps head-first into everything. Someone has to keep an eye on you."

"Quiet, you. Our pancakes are going to get cold."

The pair of spies quickly retreated, returning to the table. "Stop that," Canada hissed, scowling at England's distressed expression. "You've _finally_ gotten over your last bout of unhappiness, don't let Kiku upset you again."

England shook his head, letting out another sigh. "I won't."

"Kiku's a good boy. He's just being concerned about his friend."

"I know."

"You're happy together! Trust me, if I thought there were something fishy, I'd be all over it. You know I would."

"I'm back, Iggy!" Alfred wrapped his arms around England from behind.

"Don't abuse that," England said.

"I won't." He gave a mischievous grin. "Hey, England... You'd still care for me if not for America, right?"

To Canada's surprise, England actually smiled slightly. "Weeell, maybe not this quickly. But why wouldn't I? You possess all the same traits he had that I fell in love with. And you don't possess some of his traits I did not like..."

"So I'm even better? Score."

"You're the same, that's the point. What about you? Would you care for me if not for your inherited affection?"

"Of course!" Alfred gave England a squeeze. "Though like you said, probably not so quickly." He released him to take his seat at the table, eagerly grabbing the bottle of maple syrup.

* * *

"Damn you have a lot of luggage." Alfred dumped a bag down beside the others, at the end of the driveway. "Damn that's heavy."

Canada made a face. "Too bad you didn't inherit his strength..."

"Are you calling me weak?"

"Weaker than America, unless you can bench press a truck."

"Oh..." Alfred gazed at the assorted bags. England and Kiku soon joined them, dumping suitcases down.

"That's almost everything," Canada said. "Except Kumajirou... he doesn't like to travel. Al, could you go find him? He's probably hiding. He won't come out for me."

"Gotcha." Alfred saluted. Before he had a chance to run inside, though, a newcomer showed up.

"Hello," Russia said. "Good. You're all still here. I came to see Alfred." He hesitated, glancing between Alfred and Canada.

"Hey, Russia!" Alfred waved. He was kind of creepy, but he had been a decent guy so far. "Thanks for the gift, man. Uh, most of it."

"You're welcome." Russia nodded. "I am pleased to see you are no longer inebriated."

"Huh?"

"I came here to thank you."

"What? For what?"

"For bringing my sister back to me."

Oh. Alfred's smile returned. That was his awesome self, reuniting everyone with their dead relatives! "You're welcome, Russia. Ack!" Another of those death-grip hugs. He let himself be crushed, then Russia set him back down.

"I will go now. I have things to do, too. I just wanted to say that before you left."

Then the strangest thing happened. Russia reached over and gave Alfred's cowlick a couple gentle tugs, looking almost expectant. Then he signed in apparent disappointment and turned to leave.

Alfred glanced at his friends. "What the hell was that about?" he asked, but received no answer. "Well... I guess I have a bear to find."

"Wait for me." Canada followed after him, getting down on hands and knees to peek under furniture his bear couldn't possibly fit under once they were inside. Alfred started off in the kitchen, checking the cupboards. And inside appliances, it didn't hurt to be thorough.

"Hey, did you see Russia!" Alfred tried the dishwasher with no luck. That about covered the kitchen. "He almost looked confused, like he couldn't even tell us apart."

"Yeah..." came Canada's voice from the living room. "England thought I was you this morning. And your friends did yesterday. You know, I almost missed being mistaken for you."

Alfred shook his head, chuckling, as he headed for the nearest bathroom. "What about me?"

"What _about_ you?"

"Did I—did America get mistaken for you a lot?"

"I can't think of a single time that ever happened. It was always me."

"Oh." That was kind of sad. Alfred hoped somebody would think he was Canada one day to even things out. "Ah ha!" That furry white ball atop the stack of towels did not look like an extra-plush towel to him. "Found you. You don't want Canada to leave you here alone, do you?"

Kumajirou turned his lazy gaze on him. "Who's leaving me?"

"Canada." A talking bear hardly fazed him nowadays. "I'm leaving too, you'll be all alone!"

"I hate flying."

Alfred nodded. "I understand. I would too if I had to ride in the cargo hold. But you're too big for a carry-on! You'll get a big bottle of syrup, and you won't have to travel again for a long time."

"Fine," the bear muttered.

Alfred coaxed Kumajirou into the living room, where his huge pet carrier awaited.

"You're a life saver!" Canada beamed at Alfred as they herded the bear into his temporary home. Then he flung his arms around Alfred and held him close, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. "I'll miss you."

"Oh, hey." Alfred rubbed his brother's back. "It's just for a short time. You're coming to London too, soon."

"I know. But afterward, we've got our own lives to get back to, and I've liked having you here."

"Well you'll just have to start staying in your Vancouver house more often!"

"Maybe so." Canada drew back. "Be good, okay? Be nice for England."

"Of course!"

"And be careful." Canada chuckled. "He seems awfully intrigued by the fact that humans can have children. So, if he starts introducing you to nice girls..."

"I'll be careful."

"And don't embarrass our country."

Alfred grinned. "I won't. And you be good, too. Don't fuck up our government."

"I'll try."


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Are you getting more nose prints on my windows?" England's voice drifted over, and Alfred pried his face off the glass. But he couldn't help it. London was so cool! It was so big and _foreign_ and pretty, and everyone had sexy accents, and he couldn't wait to go back out.

"Do I smell food?" Alfred asked after sniffing the air.

"I made us some snacks."

Alfred eagerly turned around, eyeing the platter of baked goods being set down on a table. He wasn't sure if the smell was a good one or not, but... well, it was foreign food! He'd just have to give it a try. England seemed to be watching him intently for some reason. Ignoring the stare, Alfred picked a scone up. It looked kind of sad and blackened. "I think you may have left it in the oven a bit too long."

"Oh..."

"No harm done. We just need to pick the bottom off." He scraped away the worst of the burnt parts, then took a bite. "Not bad!"

England blinked rapidly a few times. "You like it?"

"Well, sure, just remember to set the timer for a bit less next time."

"But you don't mind? No insults? No teasing?"

"No. Do you want me to? I can, if it makes me more America-like."

"No!" England smiled. "No, that's okay. You should be yourself."

"You two had a bit of dysfunction in your relationship, I'm thinking."

"You could say that..."

Alfred waited for England to turn away, and tucked the rest of the scone into a vase.

* * *

"No, I'm not staying here until it's time to go to England." Romano rolled his eyes. "I'm heading home first."

"Can't you call your brother and ask him to bring anything you need?" Antonio asked, receiving an annoyed look in response. "What? I can't afford to go to _Italy_, or I would! Airfare is expensive."

"How stupid are you? Here to Rome to London wouldn't cost much more than directly to London."

Antonio opened his mouth to protest, then let it shut. That was probably true... So wait, did that mean...? "Are you inviting me?"

Romano's face reddened slightly. "Well if you're going to _pout_ about it..."

"I wasn't pouting." Antonio stood, tossing away the paper plates and plastic forks from their take-away lunch. "So anyway, how come you never got upset?"

"What the hell are you talking about now?"

"About me. How come it didn't bother you seeing me?"

Romano shrugged, red cheeks darkening further. "Why would it? Seeing you again was... it wasn't... it wasn't a bad thing." He huffed a sigh. "Russia told me about England flipping out. I'm not emotionally fucked up like him. If you're Spain, you're Spain."

"And you're glad to see me?" Antonio pressed, grinning. He hadn't anticipated an answer, and he wasn't disappointed. He flopped onto the hotel bed, reflecting on the previous night. With only a single bed, they had verbally fumbled around for about ten minutes before Antonio had made himself a bed on the floor with the extra pillows and blanket.

As if reading his mind, Romano joined him on the bed, settling down beside him. "What's on? Anything good, or just stupid Canadian shows?"

"Uh..." Antonio located the remote. "I guess we can find out." He managed to find a movie that Romano accepted as watchable. He, though, spent more time watching Romano out of the corner of his eye. His adorable round cheeks that went all red when he was embarrassed, warm brown eyes, that gravity defying curl that he longed to yank on for some reason...

"Oh, damn." Antonio interrupted his ninja-like study of Romano's face, hopping off the bed.

"What?"

"If I'm going globe-trotting soon, I have to let some people know." Antonio made a face. "Family, friends who were expecting to see me, my girlfriend..."

Romano turned sharply to face him. "Your what?"

Oops. "Um. Girlfriend? It's not serious..." He took an involuntary step back as Romano slid off the bed. _Friends. You just say 'friends'. That's all he needed to know. _"Er..."

Romano backed him into a corner, scowling. "If it's not serious, then she won't be too upset when you break things off."

Antonio swallowed. "That's probably true!"

"Good." Romano fisted a hand in Antonio's hair and forcefully brought their lips together in a bruising kiss. Antonio's eyes widened. He never would have expected _Romano_ to make the first move... But as the kiss went on, thought melted out of his mind, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

When Romano released him, Antonio's knees buckled. "Ah..."

The satisfied-looking Italian studied him a moment, then picked the hotel phone up. "Well?"

"R-right..." He accepted the phone. "I've got some people to say goodbye to. Some for good..."

* * *

"This is so cool! I can see everything!" Alfred hurried to the other side of the capsule, elbowing his way in between a couple other passengers and taking a quick picture. "How long did you say this has been here?"

England followed after him, murmuring apologies to the other passengers they had displaced. "The Ferris wheel itself? The original London Eye opened in 2000. This one opened five years ago."

"It's an exact replica?"

"A little bigger, I think, but yes." England put an arm around Alfred, experiencing another déjà vu. This was almost exactly the same as when he and America had ridden the original, soon after it opened. Right down to America running from end to end to see everything. He found himself shaking his head in wonder that they were doing this again. He could do _everything_ he had enjoyed doing with America again, and do all the thousands of things he had thought of over the last couple decades that they hadn't done.

"Has one of these people-holding thingies ever fallen off?" Alfred wondered, cutting into England's musing. "I guess it wouldn't matter, we'd probably land in the water."

"No, it's perfectly safe."

Alfred actually looked a bit disappointed. "All right. Where should we go next?"

"The London Dungeon is always fun..."

"No!"

England smirked. "It's not bad. It's family frie-"

"No!"

"Lunch, then."

Alfred nodded. "I could go for a burger."

"You had a burger for breakfast." England had pretended not to notice him pouring maple syrup on it to make it breakfast. "I'll pick a nice place for us." He sat down for the remainder of the ride, watching Alfred in wonder. After nearly a week of avoiding Alfred and feeling miserable and that he was being punished, he had done a neat 180. He never wanted to let him out of his sight, and wondered just what good he had done to deserve having his lost love returned to him. And if he found out, he'd have to do it some more...

* * *

Kiku finished up with folding the last shirt, adding it to the stack. Then he added the stack to his suitcase. All the while, he ignored the hands that had worked their way under his shirt, rubbing circles over his chest. But now that he needed to stand up... "Could you stop for a second? I need to get something."

"Okay!" Yong Soo removed his hands and sat back. It was amazing the things people got used to. Yong Soo didn't even grope him in an erotic way, it was just something he did. "What are you getting?"

"Electronics." Kiku fetched a camera, thought a moment, then picked up a couple more. One could never be too prepared. He had a feeling London would be full of interesting sights. Any other electronics he would be wanting on the plane, though. Including at least one of his cameras, of course.

"So you can take lots of pictures of your boyfriend?" Yong Soo asked, face innocent.

Kiku spluttered. "H-he's not my _boyfriend_. China's like... my brother."

"Oh?" Yong Soo tilted his head. "Then why did you assume I was talking about him?"

"Who else would you be talking about? He's my brother. And yours too." And this would be the first time he'd see China _believing_ what they were. The next time they hung out, he would call him 'brother' and mean it. He knew how much his little brothers meant to China; Kiku couldn't wait to tell him he knew that it was true.

"And you're _my_ little brother," Yong Soo mused. "Call me 'big brother'."

Kiku eyed him. "No."

"Why not?"

"You call _me_ 'big brother'."

"Okay. But we get to switch after a while, _hyeong_."

Kiku couldn't stop a smile from forming. "If you say so."

* * *

England collapsed beside Alfred in a sweaty, exhausted heap. He flung an arm over his human lover's chest, enjoying the gradual decrease of his rapid heartbeat. As they lay peacefully together, England idly wondered just what Alfred had done in his short lifespan to become so _skilled_. He decided to believe he was just 'channeling his America', as Al sometimes put it.

"Hey..."

England turned his head to face Alfred's lazy smile. "Hm?"

"How'd you become lovers? Us, I mean. You know."

"Oh, that..." He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. It still hurt to remember the 'original' America, regardless of him being back in human form, but at least the pain was tempered now. He _could_ talk about it. He had spent the entire flight over telling stories about his colony's childhood, Alfred frequently commenting on how similar the stories were to his own childhood personality.

"Come ooon, I wanna know. You went from adoring brothers to enemies to lovers, that's interesting."

"It was a _bit_ more complicated than that." England tightened his grip, snugging Alfred closer. "Well... our countries' relations had started to really improve around the twentieth century. But not necessarily our _personal_ relations. Not for a while. We fought together in the world wars, and it was during the second that..." He shrugged. "Well, our relationship was complicated. We _did_ care for each other. Always had, really. Even when we fought each other. Then we ended up on the same side, working together, and... well, we still fought a lot. We didn't know how else to treat each other, I suppose. We laughed at each other, teased, made fun, argued, throttled..."

"Throttled...?"

"But underneath all that, we really did care. I even tried to make peace several times, show him how I felt, even hit on him, and he always turned me down. And I didn't know if it was because he genuinely didn't care, or was too stupid to realize my intentions, or if he did care and that was his childish way of showing it..."

"I'm guessing the last one?" Alfred murmured.

"It was a lot of things. But not the first one—it wasn't that he didn't care. It was everything else. And I had no idea that _he_ was trying to do the same thing: show me that he cared. He seemed to equate making fun of my cooking or eyebrows with affection, as if I could decipher that..."

"Aww, a romantic hidden message."

"Anyway, one time in our armies' camp during World War Two..."

* * *

England studied the chalkboard with a frown, lips moving slightly as he read all the tiny print.

"Well?" America watched him with a grin, waiting. One could practically see the wagging tail.

"Where did you learn all those big words and military strategies?"

America just grinned wider, looking pleased with the 'compliment'.

"Er..." England shook his head. "It sounds impressive, but it seems to just be a long-winded, fancy way of saying I'll be your backup." He eyed America with a frown. "I'll come up with the strategies from now on."

The self-proclaimed hero wilted. "But-"

"No buts." England snatched up the eraser and removed the slightly messy handwriting, ignoring the whining behind him. "And stop whining, I raised you better than that." His frown deepened when he heard something muttered under America's breath. "What was that?" He turned, brandishing the eraser like a weapon.

"Nothing."

"Ugh. I never thought I'd miss _France _of all people..."

America's perpetual smile fell. "I didn't ask to be here with you, either, old man."

"Don't call me that, you stupid git!"

"Old man!"

"Is that really the best insult you can come up with?"

"I lived with you long enough to pick up an insult or two, you senile old _wanker_!"

"You..." England trailed off, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up.

America managed to look even more offended. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I can't help it!" England wiped away tears of mirth.

America folded his arms, clearly not thrilled with England's amusement. "Just go back to your own tent already."

"Fine." England stalked over to the flap and shoved it aside. Why did they always have to get stuck together? He had a feeling France _was_ the one behind it. The disgusting frog was always smirking at them when they argued, calling their fights 'lover's spats'. How ridiculous! Just because he _cared_ about his former colony didn't mean he... it really didn't...

"Hey, England?"

He came to a halt, waiting. "What is it?"

"I just... oh hey! Look out!"

"What?" England turned, just as he was tackled to the ground, breath forced from his lungs. An instant after he was slammed into, he was aware of gunfire in the distance.

"Shit. Who attacked us? Ow..." England tried to raise a hand to rub at his head, but couldn't move. He was still pinned down. _America? You... weren't hit, were you?_ He slowly looked up, body tense. But America seemed fine, at least, staring down at England with wide eyes. "Are you hit?" Something wet dripped onto his cheek, and he wondered if America was crying. He focused on the boy's face, and noticed the long bleeding scratch across his cheek.

"Just grazed me." America gave that same stupid grin as always.

"Good." But his relief was short lived, heart freezing in his chest as he was struck by the full implication. "Bloody hell." He squirmed a hand free and gently touched the long, thin gash. "You almost got a fucking bullet in your head!"

"I guess. But I didn't."

"But you could have!" He shoved America off, rolling away. "What the hell did you do that for? You came _this close_ to getting _shot in the head!_"

"But I didn't..." He sounded genuinely confused by England's anger. "He was going to shoot you. Now neither of us is badly hurt."

"You stupid...!" England realized his hands were actually trembling. He firmly told himself it was from anger. "A bullet isn't going to kill me!"

"Nor me!" America snapped. "I didn't want to see you hurt!" England stared at him in surprise. The young nation actually looked... angry. "And I'd have done that even if I thought it _could_ kill me, so... so shut up!"

"America..." England stared at the ground, at the dirt that had been churned up by their little scuffle, which had suddenly become fascinating to watch.

"What?"

"Well... I'd do the same for you," he mumbled.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Nothing was said for a very long couple of minutes. England was aware of blue eyes watching him, even as he continued his contemplation of the dirt. He didn't look up, even as he saw America move out of his peripheral vision. And then strong, leather-clad arms were around him, pulling him closer.

"I'm sorry," America whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you. But I'd do anything to protect you..."

England melted into the embrace. "I know."

"We make everything difficult, don't we?"

"That we do."

"I don't hate you."

England couldn't help but smile. "I didn't think you _hated_ me. Usually. I don't hate you either, you know."

"Good." America pulled away from the embrace and stood.

"Where are you going?"

He pulled a gun out from somewhere on his person. "To find whoever shot at you."

"Bloody hell, you are not! We're in a war zone, you aren't going to go traipsing off into enemy territory for a bit of vengeance."

"But I want to..."

England got to his feet, brushing dirt off his green uniform. "Let's just go to my tent."

"Both of us?" America stared at him, England able to make out a blush even in the dark.

"We've shared a tent plenty of times. Don't get shy on me now. Besides, I need to patch your face up. Clean it up, at least." England shoved his hands in his pockets and weaved through the camp, America right on his heels.

"Hey, England?"

"Hm?"

"Well... if you get cold again, I guess I won't turn you down this time..."

* * *

Alfred chuckled. "Was that a come-on?"

"Oh, I'd tried to use the old 'I'm cold, won't somebody warm me up' thing on him once, and it didn't work..." England rolled his eyes.

"Gotcha. So did you two fuck after you got to your tent?"

England lightly smacked his chest. "If you must know, yes, eventually."

"Was it as good as you'd always anticipated?"

"It was as awkward as if we'd both been a couple virgins. We got used to it and improved with time, though."

To England's relief, Alfred didn't make any teasing comments about that. "Did everyone smirk at you because they always knew you'd get together?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. France instinctively knows when anybody has had sex somehow. He knew immediately, and was merciless."

"So. He saved you, and that made you guys realize how much you loved each other?"

"I guess so." England sighed. "I guess I hadn't really thought of him as the type to sacrifice himself for me. And... well, bullets wouldn't kill us—not like that, anyway, not with our countries intact—but that doesn't mean they don't hurt. A bullet in the brain would put one of us out of commission for a _long_ time. It scared the shit out of me when I realized what a close call it was. And he didn't care."

"Aaand, after doing something like that for you, he couldn't very well keep acting like the idiot, hm?"

"No. We were allies, of course he'd protect me, but happily willing to give his life for me if it were possible? The cat was out of the bag with that." England smiled to himself. "It took a while to get used to being honest with each other. Not that the teasing and bickering ever stopped..."

"Mm." Alfred nuzzled England's neck, placing a kiss on it. He trailed a few more kisses up, along his jaw.

"Nn... you know, if you keep doing that, I'm going to-"

"You're not doing anything," Alfred murmured. "Well, you _are_, but from down there. I do believe it's my turn." And in one fluid motion, he was on top of England. "If you think you can handle another round."

England snorted. "Don't underestimate the stamina of the United Kingdom."

* * *

_Hehe, nooo, the story isn't going to become them having sex all the time, it just worked for the scene. ^^;_


	13. Chapter 13

_I'm thinking I'm going to have to cut back on the updates for this story a while, sadly. Real life intrudes once again! Maybe once a week now, we'll see. _

_Sooo, just so ya know (and because a lot of people have wondered :)) I don't actually have anyone specific in mind as the 'bad guys' of WW3. I'm a bit of a wuss I suppose, but when we're talking about _that_ many people being killed (the current total population of the 'dead' nations is about 1.8 billion. Even with refugees escaping... yeesh...) I'm kinda reluctant to make existing countries out as the bad guys. lol It's not really relevant to the plot, anyway. It's not any of the main cast, of course._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

It had been several nights since Alfred had had one of _those_ dreams, and never had a conscious source influenced them. But he drifted off that night thinking about the story England had told about himself and America, wanting to know more, more about his past stories with everyone. And wondering, _Was anyone ever _my_ hero?_

* * *

England walked in just as the boys finished putting out the curtain fire, brows lowered dangerously.

America swallowed and stared up at him, like a rabbit confronted by a predator. "Um..."

"What _happened_ here?" his colonizer demanded, taking in the sad sight of his charred curtains on the floor.

"Um..." America said again. What had happened was he had been playing, chasing after his brother (who had _not_ been in the mood to play, and had been fleeing rather unhappily), until America had knocked over the lamp, which had collided with the curtains... In other words, he was in _trouble_.

"I'm sorry!" Canada wailed.

England turned to him in surprise. "You?"

"I was playing with Kumajirou and we knocked it over! I'm sorry!"

America gaped at him. "Wha-" He was cut off by a minute shake of his brother's head.

"Canada..." England sighed, shaking his head, too. "You know better. Up to bed with you, I'll talk to you later."

"Okay."

As soon as he was gone, America chased after his brother as fast as his little legs would allow him. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, bursting into their room. All signs of Canada's previous anguish were gone; he was calmly selecting a book to read.

"Quiet," Canada said. "He'll hear you."

"You were unhappy with me!" America was utterly baffled. "Why would you take the blame?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Because I love you, idiot."

_His vision blurred and faded, and he found himself flung far into the future, into the third World War..._

America shivered violently, frozen grass crunching under his feet as he plodded along. His mind was stuck in the recent past, on that poor girl... Ukraine hadn't deserved that. None of them did. Then, once again, his mind was jolted back into the present by another chill. "D-dammit, your country is so c-_cold_."

"I know," Russia said, voice subdued. America glanced over at him, at his torn and bloody uniform, his haggard face, knowing he couldn't look much better. "We need to rest."

"Where?" America made a face, suppressing another shiver. "It isn't safe here."

"No. We will have to take turns."

America was too weary to really argue. He dropped down to the chilled ground, curling up into a ball as well as he could while keeping a grip on his gun, trying desperately to warm up. Russia sat down nearby, invading his personal space, as usual. America gave a start when something warm wrapped around him—a scarf. Russia had wrapped his scarf around both of them. Then the taller nation leaned close. "What are you doing?"

Russia gave him a smile that would have freaked him the hell out not too long ago. "I am not going to molest you in your sleep, if that is your worry. We need to keep warm."

"R-right." He hated to admit it, but he _was_ warming up as they huddled together. "Uh, thanks."

"Sleep, capitalist pig. I will take the first watch."

"Thanks, commie bastard."

_Everything faded again, and once more he was jerked to another point in time, not too far into the future._

They walked through the war-torn city, tossing bottles of water or pieces of candy from their bags to the occasional resident. They weren't always well-received.

"They keep glaring," America whined.

"We're an occupying force," England muttered. "Why wouldn't they glare?"

"Because we're nice and handsome and heroes and-"

"Shush."

A small boy approached them, thin and doe-eyed. America promptly dug into his bag for something yummy.

"A-are you Americans?" the child said.

America smiled and opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by England.

"I am."

"What?" America gave him a perplexed look, just as the child pulled a small knife out of his bag, drove it into England's stomach, then quickly withdrew it and fled.

"E-England!" America choked out, catching the injured nation as he fell. "Oh my god! What the hell? Did you know he was going to do that?"

"I had an idea..." England grimaced.

"You idiot!" America stripped his jacket and shirt off, tying the shirt around the bleeding wound. Ukraine, Austria, Switzerland, Liechtenstein... all their deaths had torn him apart, but England...! He took a deep breath, reminding himself that his lover had shown no signs of being under attack. If his country was safe, he was safe.

But that didn't mean he ever wanted to see him hurt...

"Just hang on." America easily hefted England into his arms. "I'll get you patched up."

"You?" England's head lolled against America's chest. "Great..."

* * *

There were still tears dampening Alfred's eyes when he jerked awake in the dark. On impulse, he punched England in the shoulder.

"What the fuck?" the nation hissed, coming awake instantly.

"Um... sorry." Alfred gave a sheepish laugh. "Dream. You did something stupid..."

"Oh..." England sounded half-asleep again already. "Boston Massacre? That wasn't my fault, really..." Then he was softly snoring again.

Alfred watched him sleep for a moment, smiling fondly. Then he snuggled against England's back and returned to sleep.

* * *

"It is soooo nice here..." Antonio leaned back on the stairs, gazing up at the brilliant blue sky before turning back to people-watch the crowded piazza. "What's it called?"

"_Scalinata della Trinità dei Monti_," Romano said.

"What?"

"They're called the Spanish Steps in English..."

"Oh." Antonio's smile grew. "Spanish, eh?"

"Shut up."

Antonio did, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm sun. Not that it wasn't warm at home, but it was a different kind of warm. It lacked his home's promise of rain in the _very_ near future, so enjoy the sun while you can. "You get to live here. You're so lucky."

"Yeah."

"My butt's getting sore." Antonio stood, rubbing the afflicted body part. "Let's go down!" He skipped on down to the piazza, heading for the fountain. "It looks like a boat!"

"It's supposed to," Romano said, right behind him.

Antonio gazed about the busy square. "Hey, is that a McDonalds over there?"

Romano scowled. "Yes... your friend and I had a _long_ discussion about that..."

Antonio chuckled at that. "Oh. This isn't the fountain you toss coins in, is it?"

"No. But that's not far. This way." Romano headed off, and Antonio hurried to catch up, not eager to get lost in a crowded foreign country. It was only a short time before they emerged into another, even more crowded piazza, dominated by the huge, famous fountain. Antonio could only gape at the stunning architecture and statues. "Your country is awesome."

"I know." Romano tossed a coin to him. "Throw it over your shoulder. It guarantees a return trip to Rome..."

Antonio turned his back to the fountain and tossed the coin, hearing a successful _plunk_. "Aren't you going to?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "It's a pretty safe bet that I'm going to return to Rome."

"Oh right. Hey, look at that!" Forgetting about his desire to stay close to his companion and not get lost, Antonio pushed through the crowd, toward the smaller fountain he had spotted off to the side. "What's that?"

To his relief, Romano had stuck close. "Uh..." His face went red. "The_ fontana degli innamorati_."

"What's that mean?"

"Fountain of lovers..."

A slow grin spread over Antonio's face. "Really?"

"If two people drink from it, they will be faithful to each other forever."

"Fascinating." Antonio cupped his hands and scooped some water up. "Go on!"

"Why should I? You're the one who's been seeing other people." Romano scowled.

"You can't blame me for that! I didn't remember my past life. Come on."

"Fine." Romano got a handful of water, and they drank together.

"There! Now can we eat?"

"You're the one who's been dragging me all over the place," Romano grumbled. "What do you want?"

"We did just pass that McDonalds by..."

Romano stared at him for a moment, then turned away, muttering something about killing Alfred.

* * *

"I have something for you," came England's voice as a newly-dressed Alfred made his way down the antique stairs.

"For me?" Alfred rushed the rest of the way, damn near tripping and breaking his neck. "What is it? The double decker bus model? Because that was cool."

"No. And that was a toy, don't try to macho it up by calling it a model."

Alfred chose to ignore that. "The red phone booth keychain? The British flag shirt?"

"No! I did not get you a souvenir."

"Oh..."

England cleared his throat. He was seated at the kitchen table, newspaper and cup of tea at hand. A second cup of tea had been placed across from him. "You know that you haven't met everyone yet, right?"

"Oh, sure. Not everyone was at Canada's party, you said, I remember."

"Not even all the ones who wanted to come. The war hit everyone hard..."

Alfred dropped into his chair, plucking the cup from its saucer. England was studying him again. Did everything have to be a test? "What?"

"Nothing."

With a roll of his eyes, Alfred took a sip. Now that he thought about it, England had been making tea for himself. That was the first time he had offered Alfred any. "Let me guess. He didn't like tea?"

"No. But it was more the principle of the thing than actual dislike."

"See? The differences are only my upbringing."

"I know. Speaking of which, I do have ingredients for pancakes. You can make them, I'd prefer not to."

"Pancakes?" Alfred beamed. "Awesome! I'll just get right—wait..." He took another sip of tea, and carefully set the cup down. "We got off course. What about my present?"

England nodded. "She should be here soon."

"She?"

"I remember how excited you were to find out you had a brother, so I thought-"

"I'm here!" a voice exclaimed from the entrance way.

"I don't remember giving her a key, though," England said with a frown.

"_Inglaterra_! Where are you? Is he here?"

"In the kitchen!" England called out.

Appearing in the kitchen doorway was a beautiful young woman with impossibly long black hair, dressed in a fetching white blouse and red skirt. "Oh, it is you! _Hermano..._" She rushed forward and enveloped Alfred in her arms, practically sitting on his lap.

"Who are..." That wasn't _too_ hard of a puzzle. "Mexico?"

"You remember me?" She gave him a thrilled smile.

Alfred's returning smile was sheepish. "Well, no. But who else would my Spanish-speaking sibling be?" England had implied she was, anyway, and he was _pretty_ sure 'hermano' meant 'brother', or something like that. Or was it an insult?

"I've missed you so much, _hermano_."

"Really? We got along okay?" he had to ask.

"Of course! We didn't always see eye to eye, but family is more important than anything." She eyed England.

"Don't look at me! The way my brothers treat me wasn't _my_ idea."

She laughed, turning back to Alfred. "Come here, remember the game we used to play?"

"What game?" Alfred soon found out when the glasses were yanked off his face, giving the world a nice coating of fuzz. "Hey!"

Mexico laughed again, peering at him with his glasses perched on her nose. "Oh!" Her cheerful expression fell. "_Dios mio_, these are prescription! I'm going to be sick!" She snatched them off her face and shoved them into his hands.

"What did you expect?" Alfred restored his glasses with a laugh. "That was our game?"

"We found it funny. Eventually. They did used to be mine. The real ones, I mean. I brought them to show you!"

England choked on his tea. "You _what?_"

Mexico tugged another pair of glasses from one of her skirt's pockets, handing them to Alfred. They did look quite similar to his own, only with sad broken lenses.

"These were his?"

"_You kept those?_" England demanded.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I? He would have wanted me to have them. It's not like they even mean anything anymore..."

"You could have at least asked!"

"Can I keep these?" Alfred asked.

"Of course!" Mexico kissed his cheek. "Let's go watch British sitcoms."

"Okay!" His sister finally slid off his lap to let him stand, and they headed for the living room.

"What about breakfast?" England asked.

"Bring something in for us," Alfred said. Mexico shuddered. "Like cold cereal," he added. England couldn't possibly do anything to that.

"_Gracias_." Mexico gave him a quick hug before seating herself in front of the television. "I really have missed you a lot."

"I know." Alfred plopped down beside her. "I get that a lot."

She playfully punched his shoulder. "You haven't changed a bit."

* * *

The park was bustling with activity, not unusual for a pleasant summer day. A group of teens and twenty-somethings had a lively game of volleyball going, while a pair of girls watched from a bench on the sidelines. Between games, one of the girls playing took a break to approach the watching pair.

"Hey, c'mon, Katyusha!" she said with a grin. "Aren't you going to join in? Or your friend? Sorry, I forgot your name..."

"Lakshmi," the darker girl said, voice soft.

"Right, sorry." The volleyball player poked at the ball of fuzzy pink yarn on Katyusha's lap. "You shouldn't be knitting like an old lady. What are you making a scarf for? It's summer!"

"It's a gift," Katyusha said, smiling but not pausing in her knitting. "I'm leaving soon, remember? And I want to finish before then."

"Aww... no fun."

"I'll play," Lakshmi decided, standing up and brushing off the shorts her new friend had convinced her to wear rather than her long skirt. Katyusha had pretty much taken her under her wing since the party. As had Lili, but she was frequently busy with her brother.

"I'll cheer you on!" Katyusha paused to reach over and give Lakshmi a pat on the back, then returned to her task. She just _had_ to get the scarf finished before it was time to go.

* * *

"Oh, sure, everything's great," Alfred said into the phone.

"Are you sure, Alfie?"

"I'm sure, Mom." The blood was starting to rush to his head. He flipped around so that he was sitting upright in the chair. "Tell Dad I said hi."

"Of course. Say hi to England for me."

"I will. And you..." Alfred blinked as his brain caught up with his ears. "What?"

"Be a good little nation."

"What? Mom! _What?_"

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, do you think I never noticed how much you resembled the twin soldiers who helped our group of refugees to safety?"

"Uh..." Alfred tried to come up with a coherent sentence. "That's... uh... but how'd you..."

"I'll talk to you later."

"W-wait..."

"Bye!"

"Uh..." But she had hung up. Alfred did the same. "Well. That's just... well."

"Problems?" England asked.

"My mother. She drives me crazy..."

* * *

England gave up, turning the television off. Alfred supposed it was hard to concentrate when he had a half-naked man practically on his lap, exploring every inch of his own body.

"What's this, Iggy?" Alfred asked, pointing.

"Albuquerque, New Mexico."

Al chuckled. "That's a funny name. How do you spell that?"

"Never mind. You'd never remember."

True enough. "Okay, how about this?" He moved to another spot.

"Tulsa, Oklahoma."

"So..." He waggled his eyebrows. "What about there?" He gripped England's hand and tucked it into his shorts. "Hmm?"

England cleared his throat. "To be honest, I don't really know."

"You don't?" Alfred stared at him in surprise, eyes wide. "Why would he not tell his lover that?" He did not, however, move England's hand away.

"I don't know. Everyone just assumed Florida, for obvious reasons. Even _humans_ referred to Florida in that way..."

"Ohh, yeah." Alfred chuckled.

"But he told me once that wasn't true. And I never found out what it really was."

"That's weird." Had it just been that embarrassing?

England shrugged. "He once said that it was New Orleans, but he later claimed that had been a joke. I did find it funny at first, what with the 'Big Easy' nickname..."

"Oh no." Alfred laughed harder, finally releasing England's hand. "Why would he joke about _that_? What an awful nickname!" But at least it had 'big' in it. It could have been a lot worse.

"Anyway, then I kicked France's arse and America realized it wasn't so funny anymore," he muttered.

Alfred's laughter trailed off. "Why did you kick France's ass?"

"You studied American history, didn't you? Think about it..."

Alfred thought back. France and American history. New Orleans. Oh right... "Ohh!" He burst into laughter again, holding his sides. "Imagine having to _buy that back_ from somebody!" A part of him hoped that it had not been a joke at all, and America had simply claimed it was to spare France further abuse.

"I'm glad you find it funny."

"It is funny!" Alfred nuzzled close. "Sooo..."

"Hm?"

I seem to recall, when you were telling me about your first time with America, that it was all awkward. As if you were a couple virgins."

"So?" England said, looking annoyed.

"Oh, I'm not teasing you for it being awkward. You just seemed to imply that neither of you actually were virgins..."

England cleared his throat. "At my age, did you really expect me to be?"

"Nooo, but America was young by your standards, eh? Who had _he_ been with?" He poked at England when he didn't answer. "Come on. I have a right to know who I was screwing in a past life."

"I wouldn't talk if I were you. _You_ were no virgin, first time we slept together."

"You're changing the subject."

"Well I don't know! Former lovers wasn't something we discussed."

Alfred sighed. "Former lovers, what part of the country his dick was... you guys didn't share much, did you?"

"We shared plenty. Just... the things that mattered. And the things that wouldn't piss us off."

"Maybe you _were_ his first!" Alfred suggested.

"The thought had crossed my mind... he denied it."

"Of course he would," Alfred scoffed. "You don't admit that it's your first time. _I_ didn't."

"_Who _was..." England trailed off. "Well, I guess some random human names wouldn't mean anything to me. You never slept with any of the other former nations, did you?"

"Nope. But I still say you were his first."

"Hmm." England fell silent then, just holding Alfred close—Alfred still clad only in the Union Jack boxers he had picked up on his last shopping trip—but not doing anything naughty. Just holding him. "It was Canada who told me," he murmured eventually.

Alfred blinked his eyes open. He'd damn near drifted off. "Eh?"

"About him. America."

"What about...? Oh..." He let his eyes drift shut again. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear about that, but if England wanted to talk about it...

"I'd already guessed, though." England sighed. "I woke up, went about my day, turned on the news... and they were talking about horrific attacks all across the US. After losing so many other nations, I knew that meant they were going in for the kill. They had waited until he was vulnerable, forces spread around the world, he himself worn out..." He swallowed. "I knew. But I refused to believe, anyway. But Canada... he was there."

Alfred shuddered. What, exactly, did he mean by _there_? He didn't _witness_ the whole thing, did he?

"He wasn't far from where America was when he heard about the attacks. He arrived in time to see... to see them pulling him from the plane's ruins. Already dead. And Canada..." England actually smiled. "He was in a great deal of pain from his own cities receiving some of the attack, and even more pain after seeing his twin... Well, even with all that, he immediately caught a flight to come see me. He wanted to tell me in person, before I found out somewhere else... And I didn't. I was running around in a panic, but nobody had answers, and I wasn't allowed to leave." He pursed his lips. "I remember opening the door, and seeing him standing there looking _terrible_, but I don't remember much after that... Alfred, are you okay?"

"Fine." Alfred tilted his glasses up and wiped his eyes.

"So..." England swallowed. "I should change the subject. Did you have any other questions? Not related to your body parts?"

"Oh, I have lots of questions still."

"Yes?"

Alfred took a deep breath. "How are you born? How come me and Canada are twins, anyway? How come Italy needs two people when even bigger diverse countries only get one? Shouldn't there be, like, fifty of me? If you can't reproduce, why do you produce semen?"

England coughed. "Er..."

"Do female nations have, like, wombs and whatnot? Why do you even have genders?"

"Um..."

"If you used to be children, what made you stop aging? How come you all look like a bunch of teenagers when you should be battle-hardened, grizzled old men?"

"Alfred..."

"And what is up with you-" He was abruptly cut off when his lips were pressed together between England's fingers.

"Those are some interesting questions coming from someone who has trouble finding six out of seven continents on a map," England said, then released him. "Must be all the additional schooling."

Alfred grinned, taking that as a compliment. "Are you going to answer them?"

"No."

* * *

_Of course I know Russia's not a commie, silly. By that point, it'd become a running joke/term of endearment on America's part. XD_

_Historical note: Italy fought for a long time against American fast food. They finally lost in 1986 with the opening of McDonalds in the Piazza di Spagna in Rome (that being the one Antonio spotted). There was protesting. Sorry, Romano!_

_I actually don't read much Spamano, even though I think they're adorable. -giggle- I imagine everyone and their mother has probably written fics around the Trevi Fountain. Oh well. It's too romantic to pass up._

_I don't normally like explaining jokes, but I suppose I shall this time, as there's a lot of non-American readers and whatnot. So if you didn't get the New Orleans joke, and don't know what the Louisiana Purchase is: after becoming a country, Americans purchased a huge chunk of American land that had been owned by France. Including, obviously, most of the state of Louisiana, which contains New Orleans. Apparently Napoleon was interested in buffing up the US so they could kick England's ass. XD Oh France. Did you ever do anything for America that wasn't about spiting England?_


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred studied the scrap of paper and its scribbled address, then turned his gaze upward, at the crowded streets. He heaved a sigh of defeat. It seemed he was lost. England had trusted him to find the fish and chips shop on his own. Where in the world was he? _John_ Street? Could there possibly be a more vague street name? He had been in London for a _week_, he'd figured he had the hang of it already.

He was just about ready to suck up his manly pride and ask for directions, when salvation came in another form.

"Well look who it is!" A familiar French voice exclaimed. "I believe he looks lost."

"Hey, France." Alfred turned around, smiling, to face the impeccably dressed, open-shirted man. He reminded himself that he was taken, and looked up into France's blue eyes. "I was, I suppose. This city is so confusing." There was another man with France. Alfred vaguely recognized him from the party... ah! He remembered the description. Prussia. What were the odds of them running into each other in such a huge city? Unless they'd been following him...

"America! Fuck yeah!" Prussia slapped Alfred on the back.

"Um, hello."

France was leering at him. Alfred took an unconscious step backward. Not that handsy shit again... "What?"

"You've had sex!" France said, and Alfred looked around to make sure nobody was listening. "Recently! With _Angleterre_?"

"Shut up."

France laughed, and his smirking expression gave way to one of genuine friendliness. "It's good to see you again." He pulled Alfred into a tight hug. His hands did wander a bit south, but that seemed more like something instinctive than a genuine attempt at lechery. "You were looking a bit wild around the eyes last time I saw you."

As soon as he was released, Alfred found himself pulled into Prussia's arms. "There weren't many others as awesome as me! It's good to have you back."

"You enjoy the competition?" Alfred said, and the red-eyed nation (or whatever he was, Alfred still didn't understand) laughed.

"You and me and Denmark need to go out drinking again once he gets here!"

Alfred grinned. "Are you paying?"

"You really _don't_ remember the old days. First one to pass out pays!"

"Be gentle," France warned. "He apparently didn't inherit America's strength. That might extend to holding his booze."

"We'll have to find out for ourselves!"

"So, ah, there was something I kind of wanted to ask you..." Alfred told France once he was released, blushing just a little. "Since you seem to be the master of knowing when and who with everyone's had sex..."

France chuckled and clapped Alfred on the back. "I think I see where this is going. You don't have to worry! _Angleterre_ was faithful while you were dead."

"Oh. Well, good, but I'd already guessed that." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh, he and I were talking, and he doesn't know who America'd been with, so I was wondering if he'd only been with England, or what, because I'm curious about who I was doing before."

The pair of nations exchanged a look, then turned back to him. "You want to know about _Amérique's_ love life, do you?" France asked, voice dripping with amusement.

Alfred nodded. "Do you know? Did _you_ sleep with him?"

"Don't I wish!" France said with a grin. "Alas, I did not."

"Not that we didn't try," Prussia added. "We had him all to ourselves while he was fighting to break free of England."

"You tried?" Alfred chuckled helplessly. "You guys are terrible. So who was his first, then?"

France shrugged. "I do not know. I can't remember ever seeing him and realizing he recently had sex, until after his first time with _Angleterre_."

"Maybe his Civil War," Prussia said.

France nodded. "He and Russia were rather friendly then..."

"Russia...?" Alfred licked his lips. That would be... interesting. It would also explain a few things about the way Russia acted around him.

"Nah, I don't think so," Prussia said, rubbing his chin. "He was rather close with the Confederacy..."

Alfred gaped.

"I don't think he would have..." France mused. "And wouldn't that be considered masturbation, anyway?"

"Hey, we're forgetting someone!" Prussia grinned in triumph. "Don't forget someone he was close to, emotionally and geographically. Them and their long-ass unguarded border, who knows what was going on there..."

"Canada?" Alfred asked weakly, and shook his head. "He's my brother!"

"So?" both nations said.

"Stop it! England was America's first, and he lied about it to England because guys don't admit stuff like that. And that's final."

"Was he _Alfred's_ first?" Prussia said.

"Um. No. But that's not the point..."

And so, Alfred found himself forced to describe his human lovers to the amused pair.

* * *

England was still on his first beer while everyone around him had consumed considerably more. Normally he was always good for a round of drinks, but not at _that_ sort of establishment. A large group of the nations and former nations that had already arrived had decided to go out for some fun and booze. So, being in London, what did they choose? A nice traditional pub? Of course not.

The idiots had decided on a karaoke bar.

So England sat between Alfred and Romano, nursing his beer, while being assaulted by... noise. At the moment, France, Prussia, and Antonio were on stage, free arms slung over one another, doing their best rendition of _Build Me Up Buttercup_. Hence Romano sitting as far away as possible, pretending he did not know anybody there.

"We should go next!" Alfred chirped.

"No," England said. "You can damn well wait for Kiku if you want a singing buddy." That had been his stance in the old days, too. America would pout for a while, but once he and Japan got enough sake into their systems, they forgot all about England as they sang their little hearts out.

"Please?"

"No."

The music finally ended. Thank god. But as England was about pick his mug up, he found himself propelled toward the stage. "Dammit, Alfred, _no_!" he hissed at his kidnapper.

"Pick a song for us!" Alfred said merrily to France as they passed.

England panicked further. "Don't just give him carte blanche!"

"Why, _mon cher_!" France grinned. "That was French!"

"Shut up!"

It was really obnoxious that Alfred could still muscle him around even without America's stupid strength. But there they were, onstage, everyone watching. And a song was starting, and... "Dammit, I will not sing that!" England put as much effort as possible into the glare he directed toward France. "I am not singing that damn _Titanic_ song!" Alfred nudged him. "It's not even a duet!"

"Just sing," Alfred said.

A few humiliating minutes later, England stormed off the stage, ignoring the standing ovation they were receiving. "Shut up! I'm killing myself now! And I can't tell you how glad I am all of you are here in my country when I do so."

"Don't act like you've never sung of your own free will," France teased.

"Times change!" England dropped back into his chair, ignoring Denmark strutting onto the stage.

"Aww, don't pout, this is fun!" Alfred slung an arm over England.

England sighed. That answered that, America's ability to drink his own weight in booze had the same origin as his superhuman strength, or something. Alfred was already past tipsy. But he wasn't quite to the stage of drunkenness where he was a complete embarrassing idiot, at least.

"Can we get out of here?" England asked, eager to get going before Alfred was pushed over the edge into gibbering lunacy. Better to quit while he was still able to think somewhat coherently.

"Awww, but _Iggy_..."

It was almost too late. "Come on. Let's go home."

"Fine." Alfred quickly drained the rest of his beer and stood up. "See you guys! We're going _home_!"

England groaned as their exit was met with catcalls and cheering. "Thanks, Al."

"You're welcome!"

* * *

Surrounded by her own assorted bags, Katyusha watched the luggage rotate round and round on the carousel, each piece being claimed one by one as weary travelers spotted the right bag. She must have miscalculated how far apart their flights were, as she had been hanging out in Heathrow's baggage claim for over an hour. She finally gathered everything up and dragged the bags with her—she wasn't about to leave them unguarded—over to the screens of arrival times. Ah yes, there it was. Delayed again. Oh well, he'd be there soon. She returned to her waiting spot.

He was easy to spot when he did arrive, in the midst of the river of people flowing in from their recently landed flight. Russia smiled politely at everyone as he pushed his way closer to the designated carousel.

Katyusha stood up, waving her arms in hope of gaining his attention without having to get into that mess of people with her luggage. To her relief, he waved back, and hurried over.

"You waited for me!"

"Sure!" Katyusha grinned. "Anything for my little brother."

Russia picked her up in a hug. It was, she mused, definitely his favorite method of displaying affection.

"I have a present for you!" Katyusha gasped, and was finally set down. "Hold on..." She unzipped her carry-on and dug inside until her hand encountered something nice and soft. "Here!" She pulled the new scarf out.

"Ohh." Russia accepted it, rubbing it against his cheek. "Very soft."

"I picked the fuzziest yarn I could find!" Katyusha grinned. "Do you like it?"

"Yes! Thank you." He wrapped it around his neck, right over the original scarf. "If you'll wait for a moment, I need to get my things." He patted Katyusha on the head, then returned to the carousel, where the bags from his flight were just starting to slide down.

Once he had retrieved his bags and rejoined his sister, Russia smiled pleasantly. "Let's hurry."

"What for?"

"I received a text from France. Everyone is at a karaoke bar. We need to check in at the hotel, and then find them. It sounds fun."

* * *

Russia wasn't the only one with an entourage awaiting his arrival at the airport. Kiku and Yong Soo found themselves, before they even realized someone was there for them, ambushed by an excited group of Asian nations. China hugged Kiku, Yong Soo randomly pounced on Hong Kong, and the others clamored close. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to arrive in a foreign country.

"How long have you been here?" Kiku asked with a restrained smile, internally bouncing with delight, as they exited the airport.

"Not long," China said.

Yong Soo skipped along beside them, having convinced the others to carry his bags for him (by handing them out and hurrying off). "This is fun! Are we all staying together?"

"Not exactly," Thailand said. "Our rooms aren't far apart, though."

"We can have a slumber party!" Yong Soo gushed. The others smiled indulgently.

"After we check in," China said to Kiku, "let's head back out, aru. There's so many things I want to show you!"

Kiku nodded. He was tired after the long flight, but in an 'oh my god I need to stretch my poor dead legs' way. Seeing the sights with China sounded like a wonderful idea. He could sleep later...

* * *

"This is the second time my breakfast has been interrupted by a rude young nation with a key I don't remember giving out," England said, quickly hiding the croissant he would never ever _ever_ admit to liking.

"Good morning," Canada said, grinning from the archway.

"Did you just get in?" England gestured toward the chair across from him.

"Yeah. I thought I'd drop by." He sat down across from England and selected an apple. "How is everything?"

"Good, of course." Even an embarrassing night of karaoke and Alfred drinking couldn't foul his mood.

"I can't help but notice that somebody is missing. Even he would be up by now." And oh hell, Canada was _smirking_.

England snorted. "I don't know _what_ you're implying. Al's just feeling a bit delicate this morning. A bunch of the others showed up yesterday, and wanted to go drinking."

"Ah." Canada munched on the apple. "Are we ready for the meeting?"

"As ready as we can be." England shrugged, standing up from the table. "As long as everyone's here, that's all that matters. It's not like we've got stacks of scientific texts about humans that used to be nations to study up on."

"It'll be interesting to see what everyone brainstorms," Canada said. "I mean, we probably won't be able to figure out the exact origins and reasoning behind all this, but... who knows?"

"Who knows?" England agreed.

"And afterward..." Canada toyed with the half-eaten fruit. "You don't get to keep him, you know."

England couldn't help but smile at that. Canada had never had to worry before, he was always closest to America. With Alfred he had no such geographical certainty. "What do you propose, we take turns with him? You have the unfair advantage, with him being Canadian..."

Canada smirked again. It didn't look right on his innocent face. "We'll figure something out."

* * *

It wasn't bad, as far as hangovers went, really. Alfred had had worse. And it was instantly forgotten when he spotted his brother hanging out on the couch in the living room. "Hey! Canada!"

"Al!" Canada pounced to his feet, and the brothers rushed into an embrace. It hadn't been all _that_ long since they had parted, but damn if Alfred didn't like having siblings now! Granted, he didn't fully understand how everyone was related, especially when they didn't even (probably?) have parents; yet somehow he had a blood-related brother, a not-quite-blood-related sister, and goodness knew what else. Oh yeah, and a former-adoptive-brother-turned-lover. And France used to own parts of him, and was sort of maybe related to Canada? It was so confusing. But whatever, he _liked_ having a bigger family, that was the point.

"How's everything back home?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, fine," Canada said, then yelped when Alfred gave him a friendly noogie.

"Good to hear! Everything's awesome here."

"Everything's always awesome to you," Canada said with a laugh, then gently shoved Alfred away. "I hear you had a bit too much to drink yesterday."

"Just a bit!" Alfred posed with hands on hips. "I can handle a few drinks and a few songs."

"Songs?"

"Obviously, it _was_ a karaoke bar."

"Oh dear." Canada chuckled. "England failed to mention that."

"Doesn't surprise me. He wasn't very happy about the whole ordeal." Alfred scratched his head. "Oh well. Tonight we can do something _he_ wants to do." He dropped onto the couch, and Canada joined him. His twin was giving him one of those appraising looks that suggested he was musing about how great it was to have Alfred around. It was rather endearing. They sure had been close. But the question remained... _how_ close? "So..." Alfred looked down, fiddling with the frayed edge of a throw, feeling awkward. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to know that about America; he just did. "Did we ever have sex?"

Canada leaned back, arm slung over the back of the couch. "Who?"

"_Us_. You and me. Well, you and America. You know."

"Ah. No, we didn't." And his answer was so _casual_. No offense, no shock, nothing. Alfred may as well have asked him if he thought it would rain. Did these nations have no morals?

"Just wondering. I've been asking around, you were the last one people weren't sure about."

Canada snorted. "You want to know who America's slept with? If England didn't know, why didn't you just wait to ask me? Of course I'd know that."

"Oh." It certainly would have saved him the _wonderful _conversation he'd had with France and Prussia. "Well. So, uh..."

"Just England." Canada smiled.

Alfred sighed in relief. "Thought so. I knew he'd have lied about that. Since I did..." He made a face. "I can't imagine saving myself for, what, a couple hundred years? Ugh."

"Well, he did have a puritan background. _I_ was the one with a... French background."

"Right." Alfred laughed. "Though now I feel bad. England wasn't _my_ first. It'd have been doubly sweet if he'd been my only partner in two lifetimes..."

Canada gave his shoulder a pat. "Don't feel bad. After twenty years of waiting, it's probably better England didn't have to deal with a virgin."

"I guess so." Al grinned. "So are you staying here?"

"No. I have a room."

"Aww..."

Canada chuckled. "I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow. Are you looking forward to it?"

"A meeting of world nations? To talk about us? Yeah!"

"They're usually quite boring, especially without America's ridiculous speeches. Here's hoping it won't put you to sleep."

* * *

_If you're wondering why so little of the Asians, it's because they get their own separate side-story, Good Fortune. lol_


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

The day dawned bright and clear. Well, bright anyway, it was rather cloudy; but at least it wasn't dismal and rainy out. Alfred sat in the conference center's lobby, waiting. The chair was plush and comfortable, and he was feeling a buzz of excitement, so he didn't mind the wait. The occasional nation passed by, often with a friendly wave. Those he didn't recognize (but who had been informed of the situation, he assumed) gave him funny looks, but he was used to that. One by one, the rest of his fellow former nations joined him.

"Together again!" Alfred exclaimed as the last of them filtered in. "How are you all? Awesome? Good!"

"Tired," Vash said, rubbing at one eye.

Alfred made an indelicate noise. "Don't you complain to people who had to come halfway across the planet."

"I'll complain all I want. You've been here for a week already, getting laid."

"Does everyone know about that?" Alfred laughed, while Lili rolled her eyes. "I can't deny it!"

"Yes, we know," Roderich said. "You and Antonio both."

"Men..." Katyusha said to Lili, who nodded. "I'm glad my brother isn't some raging hornball."

Alfred nudged Antonio. "Let's hope that's true. Raging hornball Russia sounds kind of scary."

"Are you talking about my brother?"

"No, Katyusha."

"Austria!" cried a new voice.

Everyone turned to the girl who had just raced through the front doors. Alfred vaguely remembered her from the party, the brunette with a flower in her hair. She _had_ mentioned Austria, hadn't she? Well, she had flown into the surprised Roderich's arms, so obviously they knew each other. Who was she again? One of those food-related countries. Not Turkey... Hungary! That was it. Alfred didn't know much about Austrian or Hungarian history, so he didn't know how they were connected, but it looked cute.

"Hungary," Austria said, sounding pleased.

She sniffled against his chest. "You remember me?"

"Um... not _exactly_." He must've had dreams about her. Aww.

"Well, it doesn't matter." Hungary tightened her grip.

"Hey, it's all of you!" Prussia strutted over with a grin, but faltered. He eyed Roderich, looking strangely wary. "Austria! Long time no see, man! Nothing at all inappropriate happened here, no sir!" And with that he hurried off to the meeting room. Alfred was about to make a comment on his behavior when he noticed Hungary blushing. Interesting.

"I had better go, too." Hungary released Roderich, dabbing at her eyes. The trio of human females hovered close. The girls all clung together, it was kind of weird. Alfred didn't feel the urge to hover over every guy he came across. With one last backward glance, Hungary hurried off.

"Sooo." Alfred grinned at Roderich. "She seems nice. How do you know her?"

"We used to be married."

Alfred scratched his head, while the others murmured amongst themselves. "If she's your ex, why is she so happy to see you?"

Roderich's lips curved. "Marriages don't work like that with them. It was for the Austro-Hungarian Compromise."

"Marriages usually are a compromise."

Roderich gave him an exasperated look and gave up. Alfred wondered what he had said.

"Hey." England poked his head out. "You guys can come in now."

"Finally!" Alfred slapped Kiku and Antonio's backs. "Let's get this party started."

* * *

"Okay then." England glanced around at the assembled nations. "By now you should all be aware of the situation..." He nodded toward the group of humans, seated together in the metaphorical spotlight. "After the war ended, all of them were born to parents that had fled from the appropriate countries before their destruction. We don't know how, or why, or why they all ended up living in the same place and going to the same school, or... anything. But we know that they really are the nations who died. They look like them, sound like them, act like them. They have flashbacks of their former lives in their dreams sometimes. Visiting their dead country causes them pain. They feel connections to the nations they had been close to. Yet they're human, and have no actual memories of being nations."

He paused a moment to give everyone time to murmur amongst themselves. But when a few that hadn't met the humans yet stood, England held his hands up. "Sit down. You can talk to them and molest them later."

"Hey..." one of the humans in question protested.

"Just one thing, first," Germany said, not returning to his chair. "There's something I'm curious about." He tugged a knife out.

As one, the former nations took a big step backward.

England stared at him. "Um, Germany, I assure you, they're mortal..." Probably. And he probably shouldn't be allowed to come to meetings armed in the first place...

"I'm not going to _kill_ them. I need a volunteer." When none stepped forward, he just reached out and grabbed the nearest one—Kiku.

"Don't!" China yelped.

"I'm not killing them!" Germany repeated, annoyed. "I want to see if they heal like us or regular people." He drew the blade of the knife across the exterior of his arm, creating a shallow cut, then rolled Kiku's sleeve up and did the same to him.

"Why wouldn't we?" Kiku said, grabbing a tissue to dab at the small line of blood.

"You never know," England said. "Humans don't normally keel over in pain due to what chunk of land they're standing on, either."

"But..." Kiku was frowning. "China has a scar. You're _all_ scarred."

"Wounds to our land leave scars," Germany said. "That's the easiest way to explain it, anyway."

"Could these guys possibly be more complicated?" England heard Alfred mutter to one of the others.

"They're going to become nations again, right?" Italy said, waving his hand in the air. "They'll get their memories back, and their countries will be fixed up, and everything will be okay again!"

England pursed his lips. "I don't know about them getting their memories back. They've all said that these dreams they keep having are just that. Dreams. They remember what happened in the dreams, but not as if the events actually happened to them, any more than normal dreams. They seem to be just a way of them observing what happened to them rather than any memory recovery... But who knows what's going to happen?"

"As for the rest," Germany said, "we've _tried_ cultivating and rebuilding in those countries. It hasn't worked."

"But they're _back _now!" Italy whined. "So it should work!"

"They can't even set foot on the land," England said. "They've been alive since the end of the war, it's not like their existence is new."

"But...!" Italy ignored the elbow his brother was jabbing him with. "Doesn't that mean they'll just die again in... sixty years, or whatever?"

"Maybe so," Germany said, glancing at the assembled humans. "But it's sixty more years than we would have had."

"So if they aren't here for their countries..." Prussia scratched his head. "What the fuck are they here for? Why as humans?"

England shrugged. "We have no idea. This could very well be what _happens_ when a nation is killed before his time... Most of the other nations that have died, it was their time. Their culture had died out, and was being replaced by a new one. And _they_ were replaced by someone else." He gestured toward Egypt, Greece, the Italy brothers. "Or we've had crazy wankers whose countries were dissolved, but they stuck around anyway..."

"Hey!"

England ignored Prussia's outrage. "When else has a country been destroyed, and one of us murdered? We barely understand our own existence as it is!"

"I guess we'll find out the next time one of us dies under such circumstance," Denmark mused.

"I suppose so," England said, rolling his eyes. "So, let me formally introduce everyone. Well, just them, for now." He started to go down the line, though he faltered after Alfred and Kiku, and Alfred took over with the rest of the introductions.

"So," England said, once that was taken care of, "I suppose we can—yes?" He nodded to Italy, who was waving his hand in the air again.

"What's the 'F' stand for?"

"None of your damn business," Alfred said.

England cleared his throat. "Anyway..." But he had lost his train of thought. Stupid Italy.

"Well, we've got the basics to ponder on," Finland said. "I want to hear more about them!"

"I hadn't really planned on..." England looked around at the eager faces. "Uh, sure. Why not?"

From then until the first break, the nations questioned the former nations, wanting to know all about their lives. It was actually, England refused to admit, pretty interesting. He wasn't at all surprised by their hobbies and ambitions—Roderich was a pianist, Vash collected weaponry, Katyusha was a farm girl... They were asked their favorite foods (again, the answers were all obvious), favorite colors, favorite animals... And the nations being who they were, they eventually wanted a thorough description of everyone's love lives.

He knew more than he needed to about the humans by the time the first break rolled around. "Okay, okay," he said, interrupting Antonio trying to avoid Romano's gaze as France questioned him about his past partners. "Do we even need to know all this? It's time for a break, be back in fifteen minutes." As usual, everyone gratefully filed out.

England caught Alfred's arm as he was poised to leave. "Hey... Is that true?"

"Oh, well..." Alfred shrugged. "I suppose I was exaggerating a bit, I don't know why France wanted to know-"

"Not that!" England interjected quickly. "Is green really your favorite color?"

Alfred laughed, probably surprised by such a stupid question. "Well, sure. Didn't you know that?"

"No... I guess I just assumed it would be red, white, or blue."

"I like those, too! But green's the best." Alfred smiled, looking into England's eyes before turning to leave. For some reason, despite everything they had done together over the last week (century), England found himself blushing.

* * *

Alfred stretched as he wandered out into the fresh air. Canada had been wrong, that hadn't been boring at all! Of course, there was still more to come. He took a deep breath and let it out with a pleasant sigh.

The good mood was not meant to be. Somebody was giving him an unfriendly look. The nerve! He was an awesome hero, the reincarnation of an even awesomer hero... The fellow was fairly intimidating, all big and muscular and dreadlocked, cigar stuck between his lips. But something about him rubbed Alfred the wrong way, and he stopped to scowl at the smoking lummox.

"Oh good," the fellow muttered. "It's you. I thought I'd seen the last of you years ago."

"How rude," Alfred said, hands on hips. He vaguely recognized the guy from Canada's party, another one he hadn't actually met. As he recalled, he had been frowning at him then, too! "Show a little respect, huh?"

Dreadlocks puffed on his cigar. "Why should I? America died from his own stupidity. He didn't accomplish anything to deserve the hero worship he frequently gets."

Alfred's glare intensified. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"I'm Cuba. What's it to you, you punk?"

"Ohh, Cuba!" Alfred grinned. "Well no wonder you're grumpy! You no longer have a nice peninsula to flee to when you get sick of home!"

Cuba flicked his cigar away, expression hardening. Laughing, Alfred turned and fled, pissed nation right on his heels. He rounded a corner of the building at top speed, hearing the rapid footsteps behind him growing closer. Oh, he was going to get his ass kicked, but he just couldn't help himself sometimes.

But then Alfred spied salvation. A group of nations, including his brother, were chatting not far away. Alfred flung himself at Canada, crouching behind him. "Hey, bro!" He was not at all hiding or afraid, of course. It was a game. They were playing tag, and Canada was the safety zone.

"What's going on?" Canada eyed Cuba, who had skidded to a stop and actually looked kind of ashamed.

"He provoked me," Cuba said, glare returning and directed toward the head poking out from behind Canada.

"Did he?" Canada glanced behind himself.

"No!" Alfred protested. "Well, I did, but that's because he insulted America, and _that_ wasn't provoked."

Canada heaved a sigh. "I'll talk to him..." He walked over to Cuba, whose shamed face had returned.

Alfred watched with a grin. Cuba was going to get yelled at! By _Canada_ of all people! This would be entertaining. Alfred took a step closer to—"Ow! Owowow..." He winced as he was dragged backward by the ear. Somehow, despite being quite a bit smaller than him in most ways, Katyusha had managed to get a firm grip on Alfred's ear and succeeded in pulling him away from the pair that looked like they were about to have a very interesting discussion.

"I saw that," Katyusha said, not releasing Alfred until they were well away. "You were laughing! Don't go around provoking nations. You're not a child anymore."

Alfred rubbed his ear. "Sorry, Katyusha..." She returned to Russia and the creepy long-haired girl she had been hanging out with. Geez, it wasn't like he was out to start World War Four or anything... Well, whatever. Alfred wandered off to see if he could find a snack machine before the break was over.

He had just started in on his candy bar when he was joined by Canada, and winced in anticipation of the lecture. "Well?"

"Well what?" Canada gave a soft laugh. "You'll never change."

"Oh." Alfred laughed with him. "I guess so, huh?"

"Seriously, America's national anthem should have been Yakety Sax."

* * *

Germany held his arm up against Kiku's. Sure enough, his scratch had vanished without a trace, while Kiku's remained. They hadn't really expected the humans to have different healing abilities, but it was good to know for sure.

"Well," England said, "we really do need to get to some other business, as much as we may want to keep discussing them for the rest of the meeting." He shuffled through his note cards, looking for some important business. "As usual, there are still many countries rebuilding from the war..." He read through his notes, taking the occasional suggestion or question, until a hand waved at him from the corner of his eye. "Um. Alfred? You have something to add?"

"What about sending robots to help rebuild?" he suggested, and god help them he sounded _serious_. He probably (hopefully!) wasn't, he was (usually) smarter than that. So either he was being instinctively stupid, or was pretending for old times' sake.

England coughed. "There aren't-"

"You wouldn't have to pay them. I mean, it'll cost a lot to build them at first, but..."

"Alfred, if you would please-"

"Of course, then you'd have to deal with them turning on their masters..." And Alfred dove into his spiel on robots helping rebuild the world, which turned into a discussion on robots in movies, which in turn became a passionate speech about movies in general.

The situation was so commonplace from the old days, nobody even thought to tell Alfred to shut the hell up so they could get back to real business. To make matters worse, it was the first meeting in a very long time that nobody seemed to get bored and sleepy. Except Greece. All and all, it wasn't a bad first meeting with the former nations, even if it wasn't very productive.

* * *

England squirmed a bit on the park bench, keenly aware of the stares they were receiving, yet finding it hard to care. Antonio and Romano were seated nearby, and Romano looked considerably embarrassed by the situation.

For some reason, Alfred and Antonio seemed to have started an unspoken battle to see who had the hotter relationship. Alfred was currently nibbling his way along England's jaw, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Antonio seemed to have his tongue in Romano's ear. Whenever one did anything, the other had to somehow top it.

It was interesting. England couldn't help but wonder just how far they were going to go with it. He didn't _really_ look forward to being arrested again.

"What is wrong with you guys?" Romano said, apparently having had enough. "We're in public! Crowded public! This isn't a contest..."

"Me and England should get a hotel room next to you guys," Alfred said.

"Why?" England mumbled, struggling to string coherent thoughts together. His brain seemed to have melted into goo. "I live here." He blinked. "Oh." If they were going to be super competitive like that, adjoining rooms might not be a bad idea. Not that he really wanted to listen to Antonio and Romano going at it...

"You two need to cool off," Romano said. "There's an ice cream vendor..." He pushed Antonio aside and headed toward the fellow with the colorful cart.

Alfred stared after him. "Ice cream!" He charged after the retreating Italian, England apparently forgotten.

"Well..." England crossed his legs and cleared his throat. "Nice of them to abandon us."

"They'll be back." Antonio seemed to realize he was alone with England; his expression grew awkward. "So, uh." One could almost see the gears turning in his head as he sought for a topic that didn't revolve around piracy and the possible bastardhood of said pirates. "Do all nations end up banging the nation they raised? You, me, I'm going to take a wild guess and say France..."

"It's common, I guess." England shrugged. "Most of us waited until the nation we raised was an adult before pursuing them..."

"Oh yeah?" Antonio said, sounding mildly confused by the statement.

"Never mind." England glanced over at the pair by the ice cream vendor. They seemed to be arguing—probably over something stupid like which flavor was better. For some reason, England found himself smiling fondly as he watched.

* * *

They had finished their ice cream, and Antonio and Romano had left, probably back to their hotel room to finish what they had started. Alfred, not entirely unhappy that they were alone, had resumed his spot as much on England as he could without hurting the smaller man. Soon enough, though, his stomach started to growl, not satisfied with only a single scoop cone.

"Why don't we go for a burger?" Alfred suggested.

"No!" England said, voice suddenly sharp. "Enough with the fatty food, have something good for a change."

Alfred blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sudden change in mood. Weren't they just making out, like, five seconds ago? "Fine, we don't gotta get a burger..."

"We do not _need to _get a burger. At least speak my language correctly, git."

Growing agitated, Alfred was about ready to just leave, when he noticed England's expression. It looked more... expectant, than angry. Then he understood. England _wanted_ to fight. Like the good old days. Alfred's annoyance quickly dissolved. Well, if that would make him happy... "I speak just fine, old man."

"Hardly, brat," England said with a snort.

Alfred struggled to keep from smiling. "Your cooking sucks, scrawny jerk."

"Don't call me _scrawny_, you wanker!"

"If the shoe fits, stupid hoser."

"You..." England trailed off, seeming to have run out of steam.

Alfred wasn't sure what he had done to win, but he savored the victory. "Can we get burgers now?"

"Whatever," England said, sounding like he was holding laughter in. "Get your arse off me."


	16. Chapter 16

_Woohoo, my nifty new job starts this Monday. :D I'm so excited!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

England pushed Alfred's eager hands away from his trousers. "Hey now. Can you stop acting like a horny teen for five minutes?"

Alfred gave him a cute pout, still half-standing and half-leaning on the bed. "But I've only not been a teen for a short time." His pout intensified. "And like _you're_ one to talk."

"That's beside the point," England said primly.

Alfred huffed. "So why'd you summon me to your bedchamber and get all kissy if you didn't want a roll in the sack?"

Kids... "Does it always have to lead to sex? I just want to kiss you." He reached out to lightly touch Alfred's cheek.

"Oh." The pout finally dissolved as Alfred settled onto the bed. "Well, okay then."

Smiling, England slid his hands around Alfred's waist and tugged him closer, touching their lips together lightly at first before deepening the kiss. His eyes drifted shut, though he occasionally peeked one open to catch glimpses of Alfred's face. He savored the feel of Alfred's soft lips, and the strong arms that slipped around him, and tried to shake off the previous night.

England tucked his face in the crook of Alfred's neck, inhaling the familiar scent he always seemed to possess, dust and freshly-mowed grass and an additional whiff of soap or aftershave. He clung tightly to Alfred, unable to banish the memory of his dream. It would have bothered him even _if_ Alfred and the others hadn't been having _their_ special dreams. He had been reminding himself all morning that the dreams he had and those of the humans had nothing to do with each other. They were just having visions of the past, not future prophecies, and nothing special like that was happening to the nations anyway. It wouldn't come true any more than the time England had dreamed about being crushed by a giant rook after losing at chess to France. But the glimpse of Alfred fading away, vanishing as England reached for him and cried, had been too unsettling to just shrug off. It was just his subconscious throwing things at him, and of course he would be worried about losing Alfred some day, but still...

"Al?" he said into his human lover's neck.

"Hm?" A hand moved from England's back to run through his hair.

"You'll never leave me, right?"

"What do you mean?"

England really didn't know, so he remained silent.

"I wouldn't leave you for someone else, if that's what you mean."

"No, I know you wouldn't."

The fingers combed gently through England's hair. "Well, I do have to physically leave. I have to go back home. I thought you knew I wasn't _moving_ here, I've got my family and school and friends-"

"That's not what I mean, either," England mumbled.

"Then I have _no_ idea what you mean."

_Neither do I._ What was he worrying about? That he would wake up and realize this was _all_ a big dream, and there was no Alfred or America? He knew they only had a short time together—well, maybe that was it, then. Maybe it had just been his subconscious worrying about Alfred's human lifespan. That had to be it, of course.

"Don't worry about it." England kissed Alfred's neck, then gently pushed him down, so that his head was resting in England's lap, and he could take his turn running a hand through that wheat field hair.

"This is nice..." Alfred said with a pleasant sigh. "Let's just stay like this. To hell with meetings. Who's going to fire you if you don't go?"

"Yeah..." England said, still distant with his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Alfred tilted his face up. "You've been acting stranger than usual today."

"Oh, I—stranger than _usual_?"

Alfred laughed. "That's more like it! There's the England I know and love."

England started to chuckle, but froze. "You what?" America had said that plenty of times, but not as _Alfred_. Even if it had been said in jest...

Alfred pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged. "That surprises you?"

"Nooo, but that's the first time you've said that. As you."

"Well, I do love you," he said, and England's body filled with a pleasant warmth that quickly spread all the way to even his fingers and toes. Alfred leaned in for another kiss. "Do you love me?" he whispered, breath warm against England's lips.

"Of course," England said. Then, so Alfred could hear the actual words, "I love you."

Alfred stared at him a moment, chewing on his lower lip. England could pretty much predict what his next words would be. "Me, or America?"

"Both." England gave him a gentle, assuring smile.

Alfred smiled back at him. And not his usual dorky grin either, but a warm smile of true happiness. They embraced and kissed again, until a couple rumbling stomachs informed them that they had other chores to take care of. Like breakfast.

"Hey, do you remember where I put the glasses Mexico gave me?" Alfred wondered as England pulled away. "I wanted to get them fixed."

"How could you _lose_ those?" England shook his head. "I think they're in the nightstand."

"Oh no, not _your_ nightstand..." Looking defeated, Alfred scooted to the edge of the bed to rummage through. Okay, so England tossed a lot of random things in there, but it wasn't that bad... As he headed out of the room, he heard Alfred muttering to himself as he sifted through the drawer. "Dental floss, gum, lube, paper clips, toy soldier, candle, flask, ah! There they are..."

* * *

Lakshmi looked down at herself, doubtful expression on her lovely face as she took in the red and gold sari the shop owner had finished draping around her. "Are you sure it looks okay on me? I mean, my mother sometimes dressed like this, but I never..."

"So did India," Hungary said, giving the girl a reassuring smile. "And it looks great on you! Everyone will stare at you at the meeting."

"I don't know that I'd like that..." She took a few steps before tripping. Hungary caught Lakshmi's arm and steadied her. "Thanks."

The pair thanked the shop owner, then headed out into the busy street. A light drizzle misted down, so Hungary popped open her large umbrella. "We should have time to grab a quick bite for breakfast before we need to get going."

"All right." Lakshmi tended to quickly agree to whatever Hungary suggested. Hungary wasn't sure if that was a good trait or not... In fact, it may be the reason such a sweet girl like her had ended up dating someone like _Alfred_ in school in the first place.

"And while we eat, I can show you some Japanese relics."

Lakshmi tilted her face toward Hungary. "Don't you mean Indian relics?"

"No. I don't have any of those." She winked. "Have you ever heard of doujinshi?"

* * *

"I feel bad," China said, spearing a sausage with his fork. "What if he wanders off and gets lost?"

"He won't," Kiku assured him.

"But we just walked off and left him..."

Kiku smiled. "Yong Soo will be busy messing with the Buckingham guards for a while. We can just go back and pick him up whenever."

"It's a shame he's missing this," Taiwan said. "He would have gotten a kick out of eating bangers."

Kiku bit his lip, firmly reminding himself that he did _not_ have the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old. "Indeed he would have. He's still giggling over spotted dick."

Hong Kong rolled his eyes, probably embarrassed by all of them.

"Don't make faces, aru," China said. "It's not our fault English food is so funny!"

Kiku smiled at the gathered nations, feeling warmth pooling in his stomach as they laughed together. They were his _family_; he couldn't remember ever being happier.

"What are you thinking about?" Taiwan asked, pointing at Kiku with her fork.

Kiku shook his head. "Nothing."

"So where are you off to after this is over?" Vietnam wondered.

"Home."

"Home... Canada?"

"Of course." Kiku took a bite of his amusingly named food.

"You should come with me, aru," China said. "For a visit, I mean."

"To China?" Kiku nearly choked on his mouthful and took a quick sip of tea. "But I-"

"All expenses paid."

"I couldn't!"

"You're outnumbered," Taiwan said. "You should visit my home next!"

"You and Yong Soo," Thailand said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You'll get a nice tour of Asia before you have to go back to school!"

Kiku gaped at them. "That's... er... thank you!" He couldn't come up with anything else to say. "I don't-"

"Oh, shit," Vietnam said.

"What?" Kiku said, heart fluttering as he wondered what he had done wrong.

"We've been chatting too long. We need to get going!"

"Oh." Kiku sank back in his chair, relieved. He didn't think he could handle any more surprises.

* * *

Greece yawned, managing to look even more tired than usual as he sorted through his paperwork. "I was up all night doing research. I thought I'd look into finding any instance of a human who looked like my mother after she died..."

"That's a good idea!" Italy chirped. "Though I think I'd have known if someone had turned up looking like Grandpa Rome."

"Mother?" Alfred said to his friends in a low voice. "Grandpa? They have ancestors? I will _never_ understand them..."

"It still doesn't hurt to check," Greece said.

Alfred was rather alarmed to realize he was hoping they didn't find anything along those lines. He and his group were supposed to be _special_, dammit! It wasn't fair if every dead nation got to come back... Where in the world had that thought even come from? Apparently hanging around personified countries for so long was starting to crack his brain.

Greece went over his research notes—he could have saved himself a lot of time and gotten some sleep if he had just written 'found nothing' on the first page—so Alfred tuned out. A quick scan around the room showed that he wasn't the only one. Mexico was whispering with one of her friends he'd forgotten the name of, France was doodling (which he passed to Prussia, who snickered), Canada may have been paying attention but it seemed more likely he was staring into space... The sight of so many nations goofing off during a meeting made Alfred feel all warm and fuzzy. They weren't so different from the average human at all!

"Okay," Germany finally said, "good work. We'll keep looking into the possibility of this happening in the past. Who's next?" A flicker of surprise crossed his face when it was Lili who raised her hand. "Liechtenstein?"

"Lili," she corrected, then toyed with a sleeve, looking kind of awkward. "Um, I want to know how I died! I know some of the others know, but nobody's told me. I know how the country was destroyed... why can't we hear personal stories?"

Germany sighed. "You guys and your morbid curiosity... If you're so eager to know, then." He went down the list quickly and clinically. "Ukraine was shot several times, Austria perished in his country's destruction, you and Switzerland were beaten to death, Korea was also shot, in the head, Japan was captured and tortured for some time before his country was finally attacked and he was able to die..." Kiku and several others cringed. "At some point during all that India was drowned. America's plane was shot down, and Spain was also caught in his country's destruction." He said nothing further, scowling. Obviously, if they wanted to know more, it wouldn't be from him.

"Poor Kiku!" Alfred pulled his friend into a hug.

"I'd suspected it was something like that," Kiku said, trying to escape.

Alfred didn't let go. He may not have America's strength, but he was still quite a bit bigger and stronger than Kiku.

There was an awkward silence for a while, humans digesting the information and nations trying hard not to remember. Eventually England cleared his throat and suggested they move on.

"I have something to say!" Italy was enthusiastically waving his arms around. Alfred wondered if it would be another suggestion for re-nation-ifying the humans. He had a feeling _all_ of the nations (or most, he supposed) wanted the former nations to regain their status, but Italy seemed to be the only one who actually believed it could happen. And so he was the only one who kept coming up with suggestions. Alfred had to admit, Italy's idea of them exchanging blood like vampires had been amusing. Creepy, but amusing.

"Yes?" England said.

"What if we gave them some _new_ land?" Italy grinned. "Some small chunks we won't miss. And Alfred still has a couple states!"

England opened his mouth, looking all ready to snap about yet another stupid suggestion, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth again, frowning. "Huh..."

"It couldn't hurt," Canada said, and started jotting something down on a sheet of paper. Alfred watched curiously as his twin scribbled away, then passed it on to England. England glanced over the paper, added something to the bottom, and then handed it to Alfred.

"What is this?"

"I'm giving you Hawaii," Canada said. "For now."

Alfred blinked and looked down at the sheet of paper. It did seem to say stuff along those lines, along with Canada's signature, and England's as a witness. "I get Hawaii? Really? Score!" He borrowed a pen from Germany and added his signature to the bottom. He didn't expect to actually change like Italy wanted, but he was all for the transaction anyway.

"Nice," Antonio said, peering at the document over Alfred's shoulder. "And if things don't work out between you and England, you'll get plenty of tail with your own tropical islands."

"Who says things don't need to work out?" France said. "He can get some tail regardless!"

England's frown deepened. "Couldn't we have tried this with Alaska?"

All eyes were on Alfred; many nations seemed to be holding their breath as they waited for something to happen. Alfred didn't _feel_ any different... "So, uh. How will you know if it works?"

"You have to take your clothes off," France said, then winced as England elbowed him hard. "Or, you know, we can just tell."

"Well?" Alfred glanced down at himself.

"No," Canada sighed. "I hadn't really expected anything... sorry, Italy." He reached for the paper Alfred held. Alfred quickly clutched it tight.

"I think I should still hang onto this," he said, backing away from his brother. "Just to make sure. You know?"

"It was just an experiment. Give Hawaii back."

"No!" Alfred ignored the amused looks and eyerolls. "It might still work, but take time."

"We all know you don't believe that," England said.

"I'll give it back later. I promise." Alfred folded the document up and tucked it into his pocket. How cool! During the break, he'd have to give his mother a call and tell her about his own temporary state.

* * *

England watched the others mill about during the break, munching his way through a package of biscuits. He didn't turn around when somebody sat near him—he didn't need to, the rose cologne spoke louder than words about his identity.

"What do you want?"

"How impolite," France said with an audible grin. "I merely thought you looked lonesome. Why are you off by yourself?"

"No reason." England dumped the crumbs onto the ground for any nearby birds to have.

"Are you planning a romantic rendezvous on your love muffin's private island? Assuming he manages to keep it away from Canada."

"Maybe later." England stretched his legs out in front of him. "I still haven't gotten over our _last_ trip to Hawaii."

France chuckled. "That was forty years ago! Surely the pain of your sunburn has past."

"That was a _hell_ of a sunburn..." England muttered. "And need I remind you we were _nude_ sunbathing?"

"No. No you needn't."

"Hey!" England said with a sideways glare when he felt France's arm drape over his shoulders.

"Relax. You're so uptight. Nobody's hurting you."

When France didn't make any further moves, England relaxed slightly. "What do you want?"

"We haven't talked in a while," France said with a slight shrug. "I was wondering how you were doing."

"Fine, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

France's annoying chuckle returned. He was way too easily amused. "Nothing."

"Alfred and I are perfectly happy. It's a shame we don't live on the same continent, but we didn't before, either. And when he's a bit older, he'll be more inclined to move. Hell, we could even get married, now that there aren't any political ramifications."

"_Magnifique_! Will I be best man?"

England couldn't help but smile. "We'll see. He'll probably want his brother..."

"Bah. Of course."

"You can be the flower girl."

"Ha. Are you sure nothing's bothering you? Your jabs are not as barbed as usual."

England shrugged. "Bad dream last night. That's all. It was silly, really."

"Wish to talk about it?"

"No. It's fading." And it was, the memory hazy. It wouldn't be long before it was gone completely. England leaned into the friendly embrace that had comforted him many times over the past couple decades. Then he quickly pulled away, realizing that Alfred might stumble upon them and misunderstand.

"It's good to have them all back, hm?" France said. "It's still hard to believe."

"Tell me about it."

"We'll have to invite them to more meetings, just to get them all together."

England nodded.

"Except during hockey season, maybe. That group might be a bit scary. You should reinstate your anti-gun laws first."

England rolled his eyes. Although... he might have a point...

"I will treat you to a cup of tea," France suddenly decided.

"Oh good," England sighed. "Vending machine tea."

* * *

The fourth time a passing nation said "Hi, Alfred" to him, Canada mused that things really were getting back to normal. He found himself not really caring, despite how annoying that was in the old days. But he had a feeling the old urge to punch his brother whenever he was mistaken for him wouldn't return for a long time.

A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Canada wasn't even given time to guess (not that he had to) before the arms' owner said, "Hi, handsome."

"Hi, Al." Canada patted the ground beside him. "Sit."

Alfred plopped down, sitting cross-legged. "What's up, bro?"

"Nothing," Canada said, smile tugging at his lips. "Could I have-"

"_Later_," Alfred said, patting his pocket.

Canada wondered if he would ever get Hawaii back. And if his boss would be angry at him. Ah well...

"So your work's done, right?"

"Hm?" Canada blinked out of his thoughts. "Work?"

"Yeah." Alfred scrubbed a hand through his hair. "You can go back to your Vancouver house, yes?"

"Oh." Well, if his boss was going to yell at him anyway for giving parts of the country to humans, may as well go all out and skip work. "I think I can manage, yes."

"Yay!" Alfred gave him a bear hug worthy of Russia. "It'll be just us again!"

Canada had to smile at that. Of course he was happy for England and Alfred, but it _would_ be nice to have his brother to himself for a while.

"Kiku just told me he's going on a grand tour of Asia once we're done here," Alfred said, releasing Canada. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Very," Canada agreed. "You want to go?"

"Nah. Well, some day. But not now."

"Good. Oh, there was something else I've been meaning to ask you."

"What's that?"

Canada cleared his throat. "Why is your mother calling me? And acting as if I'm her kid? And calling me Canada?"

"Ah... ha, yeah." Alfred gave him a sheepish look. "I forgot to tell you about that, huh?"

"Yes you did."

"I have _no_ idea how she found out. I mean, all she would tell me is that she noticed how much I resembled the twin soldiers who helped her and the other refugees escape her home when it was attacked, so apparently she knew you. But how she knew what you _were_... or why she figured out about me or... yeah. That's my mom for you." Alfred shrugged. "But since you're sort of my brother, I guess she wants to be your mother now, too? I don't know."

"Uh huh." Canada stared at him. What the hell? He thought back to the attacks on the Seattle area, to the group of people he and America had led north. He couldn't remember anything specific about them, though; he had had other things on his mind at the time than remembering a bunch of random faces. "That's weird. Why did you give her my number?"

"I didn't." Alfred chuckled. "Maybe England did."

"She's been talking to England, too?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but I wouldn't put it past her."

"I see."

"Yup, she's crazy. My whole family is." Alfred gave him a playful shove, then went to yank on his hair curl.

Canada quickly moved his head away. "Ah... don't do that."

"Why _not_?"

"Just don't."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Pff. Fine."

And then someone _else_ decided to pounce on them, arms around both their shoulders. "How are my favorite brothers?"

"Mexico!" Alfred said, clearly pleased. "Hi!"

"Hi, Mexico," Canada echoed. "We're doing good."

"Good! Your favorite sibling is also well."

Canada coughed. "Favorite _sister,_ maybe."

"Oh, no." Mexico draped herself over Alfred. "Favorite sibling. Right?"

"Ah..." Alfred looked a little lost as he sought for a diplomatic answer.

"We've _always_ been closest," Canada said. "Before, and now."

"Oh yes," Mexico sniffed, eyes sparkling with teasing delight. "Very close. What all countries have invaded yours again, Canada _hermano_ dear?"

Canada couldn't help but laugh. "Give me a break. Like you two got along magnificently in the early days. He was still pissed about the Alamo long after he and I had set aside all our past problems."

"Um, guys..." Alfred said.

"And tell me, how many _Canadian_ restaurants were there in the US, hm?"

She had to be kidding. Well, yes, she was. There were plenty of more serious topics they could get into, should the argument ever stop being a joke. "Why would the US have needed Canadian restaurants? Our cuisine wasn't that different!"

"_Sí, sí_. And what do you suppose the average American would have said if you'd offered them a choice between poutine or a taco?"

"You're being silly, anyway." Canada gave her long hair a friendly tug. "Food has nothing to do with favoritism. Look at how much he likes England."

"Guys!" Alfred said, and Canada half expected him to grab his siblings by the hair and whack their heads together. "Everyone's leaving. Break's over."

Canada glanced up as the others began filing inside. "I guess we'd better go."

"Back to work," Mexico said.

"Yeah. The _work_ portion of the meeting." Alfred made a face. "I hope it's more interesting than rebuilding stuff."

"That's kind of important," Canada said with a laugh. "So I doubt it will be."

And it wasn't.

* * *

Alfred strolled arm-in-arm with England down the street, walking at a leisurely pace as he swung his gaze around at the different shops and people. He couldn't believe he only had a few days left in London before it was back home again. Vacations were always too short! And he was keeping sane by focusing on how he would miss London when he got home, rather than how he'd miss _England_. Better to not think at all about the insanely large amount of distance between their homes. They'd figure that out later.

"Ohh..." Alfred drifted out of his thoughts as he caught sight of a large electronics store. He instinctively headed in that direction.

"Not right now." England tugged him away.

"But... the shinies..."

"Later."

With a sigh, Alfred allowed himself to be pulled away from the store. They hadn't gone far before England paused, caught up in his own staring. Alfred followed his gaze and heaved another sigh. A couple sat together on a bench, the man lightly resting his hand on the woman's greatly expanded belly.

"Oh, come _on_. You're worse than my mother!" Alfred poked England's shoulder. "Besides, you've raised kids before."

"It's not the same..." England mumbled.

"Look, if you're so eager for me to do some fertile girl, you-"

"What?" England turned to him, giving him a perplexed look. "No! Haven't you ever heard of artificial insemination? Surrogacy?"

Ohh. Right. "Um, of course I have." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "So you want me to make it with a cup!"

"That's one way to put it..."

Alfred shrugged. "After I'm done with school, Iggy, after school."

* * *

Antonio led the way through the tunnel, occasionally snapping a quick picture. Romano followed, as cutely grumpy as ever.

"They're just bugs. Why don't we go look at the lions again?"

"They're pretty bugs," Antonio said. "Oh look! One landed on me." He held his breath, remaining as still as he could so as not to disturb the butterfly on his arm.

"Or the elephants," Romano mused, apparently unimpressed. "Or I could go for a churro..."

"Spanish food again?" Antonio teased, only because it made Romano blush and that was beyond cute.

And blush he did. "I _meant_ candy floss."

"Those two are mistaken for each other _all_ the time," Antonio said.

"Whatever, I'm going to find food..." Romano turned to leave the butterfly exhibit.

"Don't go! I was only teasing. Just a few more minutes." His butterfly friend took off, freeing Antonio to take a few more pictures of insects and flowers. "Oh, Romano, don't move!"

"Why? Oh." Romano noticed the blue butterfly that was nearing his face. It came to a decision, and landed right on his nose. Antonio quickly took as many pictures as he could before it changed its mind and fluttered off. "Can we go now? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, let's go." He took Romano's arm and they left the tunnel behind, re-emerging into the rest of the zoo. He shielded his eyes from the sun that had decided to show its face—the weather in that country was as crazy as his own!—and scoped the area out for somebody selling food.

"So everyone else is making plans," Romano said as they strolled past the monkeys.

"Plans?" Were the others doing something without him?

"Yeah. After we're done here. You're coming back to Rome, aren't you?"

"Oh." Antonio felt some giddiness bubble up at Romano wanting him to stay. "I'd love to. But my grades weren't too hot last year, my professors hate me, and I really do have a ton to do before school starts again..."

Romano snorted. "You can study anywhere."

"I suppose so."

"You're coming to Rome."

"I really do want to get good grades."

"You will." Romano actually smiled. "If your professors know what's good for them."


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"England! You... you son of a _bitch_!" No longer even noticing his injuries from the recent battle, America stormed over to the much-too-calm empire. He was bathed in the orange, flickering glow of the flames, looking ethereal in the orange light. America opened his mouth to demand 'How could you?' when he remembered that he was no better. Instead, he said, "Canada put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Maybe," England said, still casually watching the fire.

Shaking with rage, America tackled the man who had been his family until recently. "Damn you! Agh..." He doubled over as the pain of the fire fully hit him.

England didn't even try to escape from under him. "This is war, my boy," he said, almost sadly. "This is what you wanted. You wanted to be a country, you wanted this war..."

"Sh-shut up."

England shrugged. "Yes, it was his idea. He's furious with you. As well he should be."

"Shut up!"

With a sigh, England finally pushed America off of him, then gathered his former colony in his arms.

"What are you _doing_?" America growled. "We're at _war_ with each other! You just...!"

"I won't tell if you won't." England rested his cheek against America's hair, like the comforting big brother he used to be. "When the fire goes out, we can get back to trying to kill each other."

_Time skipped, fuzzing away before refocusing, and he found himself at the controls of a plane...  
_

America clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. That wasn't a very good idea at his altitude, though, so he pried his eyes back open and struggled to focus on flying. "Shit, shit, shit..." Oh, that wasn't good. He hurt worse than any attack, any war. If he concentrated, he could almost make out the individual cities under attack. It was a _lot_. "Fuck. This is... it, I guess." He wished he weren't in a stupid plane he could barely control anymore. He wished he were with somebody.

"Sorry... Japan," he managed to grate out. He tried to remember his friend's polite smile, not summon forth memories of the rictus of pain that had been his final expression. America was there, fighting at that moment, to avenge Japan and he would never regret that. Not that 'ever' was going to be for much longer...

His first scream came with the feeling of being stabbed in the heart. They must have gone for his capital, finally... And then, suddenly, nothing. The pain was gone. America felt as if he were floating. The last thing he saw before the missiles hit were two very familiar, worried faces, drawn to his mind so sharply he wondered if he were having a vision of some sort rather than simply imagining them.

Then nothing.

* * *

Alfred awoke with a scream, England already sitting up and holding him close.

"It's okay," England was saying, voice low and soothing. "It's just a dream."

"Ah... I'm awake now," Alfred said, blush creeping across his face.

"Good." England ran a hand through Alfred's hair. "It's been a few nights since you've had one of those dreams. And a while since one so bad."

Alfred bit his lip. "Oh. No, no." He turned to give the worried nation a weak smile. "It was just a regular nightmare. That's all."

* * *

"Our flight leaves at 6:30 in the morning, day after tomorrow," Canada said, eyeing Alfred across the table. "Will you be ready in time?"

"He will," England said.

"Thanks."

"I can get up on my own," Alfred said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe if an earthquake hits." Canada gave his hand a fond pat.

"Or another bad dream," England said. "Can you figure out how to time those?"

Canada gave Alfred a sympathetic look. "Bad dream?"

"Just a normal nightmare," he lied again. "I don't even really remember it anymore." They didn't need to know what he really dreamed about. Neither of his visions would summon happy memories. And Alfred himself was keen on forgetting. _The way people describe him, he lived four hundred plus years of happy-go-lucky airheaded bliss. So of course I have to dream the shitty parts._

"Good." Canada took a sip of tea, then returned the cup to its saucer. "So. Any great revelations for the last meeting?"

"Ha." England scowled.

"No, huh?" Alfred said. "That's okay. I'm sure you'll come up with something exciting between now and then."

"Prat." England gathered up the plates from Canada's breakfast and headed off to wash them.

Alfred decided he should probably get dressed some time before they left. He stood from the table, though his smile soon fell. "What?" Canada was giving him an odd look.

"Oh, nothing." Canada shook his head and smiled.

"Come on, what?"

"Nothing, really."

Alfred sighed. "Did you know that you people creep me out sometimes?"

* * *

They arrived early. England seemed impressed for some reason. Alfred was about to be insulted, when he realized from England's smirk that the slight was directed toward Canada. Well, he shouldn't allow people to tease his brother (except himself, of course), but he let that one pass. The two of them headed inside, but Alfred remained out in the relatively nice weather. He rather liked sitting out in the grass, being waved to by a zillion people as they passed. He had gone from a handful of friends to the entire damn world.

"Hello," said a familiar childish voice. Alfred turned his head with a start toward the tall nation who was already seated near him.

"How'd you get there? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Russia shrugged. "I sat down. It's not my fault you weren't paying attention."

Alfred grumbled to himself.

"I apologize. I forget that you are much more fragile now." Russia gave him his usual what-the-hell-is-he-thinking smile.

"Thanks..."

"Don't mention it." Russia patted his arm.

They idly chatted about random topics, until curiosity got the better of Alfred. "Say," he said, "are you single?"

Russia regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you think it is wise to cheat on England? I doubt your string of tiny islands could withstand a British attack."

"I'm not asking for _me_!" Alfred suppressed the urge to smack his forehead.

"A pity." With his creepily smiling expression never changing, it was impossible to tell when Russia was joking or not. Alfred decided to assume he was always joking, unless he said otherwise. "But yes, I am single."

Alfred nodded. "Thought so."

Russia's lips quirked. "Did you, now?"

Wait. That didn't sound good, did it? "Oh, well..." Alfred shrugged. "You just, uh, you know, seem like the type..."

"If you must know, I have had plenty of partners." Russia leaned back, his small smile widening. "I do believe I have slept with just about every country I border, except for my sisters. And Latvia, he is too small. Why is he so small?"

Alfred laughed, hoping Russia was talking about... height. "I don't know. Wow, that's a lot of people!" He was just guessing, he had no idea what all bordered Russia. But it was a big country, so there must be... Alfred blinked. "Wait, you border my-"

"We shall go out for dinner later," Russia said, not bothering to phrase it as a request. "Do you like Russian food?"

"Uh..."

"America always said he did not, but I have my doubts. It will be fun. I'll tell Belarus, she will be glad to be able to talk to you. She and America were friends."

Apparently Alfred was getting no say in the matter. "Uh, yeah. After the meeting. Sounds good." He then noticed a group approaching and winced. "Let's go."

"Hm?" Russia glanced over his shoulder. "Is he not your friend?"

"Yeah. But they can't be up to any good." When he wasn't with Romano or his human friends, Antonio liked to hang out with France and Prussia. For some reason, seeing them together gave Alfred a sense of foreboding.

"You are probably right, let's go in. But I'll protect you from their wicked machinations, should it come to that."

"Ah. Thanks, Russia."

* * *

Germany slowly shook his head. "We've come up with nothing."

"This has been rather pointless," England agreed. "Aside from everyone meeting and getting to know them."

"There's no fucking way of figuring out what the fuck they're doing existing," Prussia said, eyeing the humans as if it were their fault.

"We can't just leave it at that," Italy protested

England shrugged. "What choice do we have? We can keep trying to figure it out, maybe it'll come to us some day." Yeah right. "It's not like we absolutely had to discover all the secrets of their existence this time."

"Not even my or England's fae friends know," Norway added.

Behind him, England heard Alfred snort with laughter. He turned to shoot him a quick glare, though he was unsuccessful in wiping away Alfred's amused smirk. "Anyway. We _can_ find out what's going to become of them, at least, by simply waiting and finding out for ourselves." He cleared his throat. "So, France and I were talking-"

"Funny, you don't look at war," somebody said. England wasn't even sure who, so he gave the room in general a glare.

"As I was saying. France and I were thinking that we should continue to extend invitations to them-" he nodded toward the former nations. "-for any of our future meetings and get-togethers. Maybe not to the actual meetings, but it would be nice to have them around, you know?"

Germany nodded. "I second that."

"So this has been fun," Prussia said. "Our great scientific conclusion is 'We don't know what the hell you are. Continue with your lives. But let's get together once in a while'."

"Yeah," England said. "Pretty much."

* * *

A buzz of excitement and relief filled the room as the last meeting concluded. The end of work was always a time to celebrate, even if it meant saying goodbye for now to one's friends.

"I'm heading home," England said to Alfred as nations flowed around them toward freedom. "Are you _really_ going out to eat with Russia?"

"And his sisters," Alfred said quickly, just to be extra sure England was aware there was nothing suspicious about their dinner date.

"Be sure to have him drop you off afterward. You know how you are..."

"I wouldn't get lost again!" Alfred protested.

"Mm hm."

"Meanie." Alfred gave him a kiss. "I'll see you at home."

England nodded, smiling, and turned to go. By then, just about everybody had left. The humans had lingered behind to chat—after all, it could very well be the last time they saw each other until school started in the fall—Romano had stuck around to wait for Antonio to finish chatting, and for some reason Cuba had decided to take a smoke break. Couldn't he have gone outside at least?

Alfred chatted with his friends for a while, until he noticed Russia waiting for him outside the door. "Hey, guys, I better get going."

"You aren't coming for drinks with us?" Antonio said, frowning.

"Sadly, no. I already made plans."

"We'll have to all do something together once we're home," Lili said.

"And you'll be buying the drinks, since you're bailing on us now," Vash added.

"I'll be with you in just a second," Katyusha said.

"Right, right." Alfred laughed and gave them a wave and a thumb's up. "I'll see you guys." He headed for the door, passing by Cuba, who gave him a hard stare. Alfred rolled his eyes and continued past him.

"Shall we?" he said cheerfully as he passed the waiting Russia. "Where's your other sister?"

The tall Russian easily fell into step beside him. "She's waiting for us. Let's meet up with her, and wait for Katyusha. She wanted to say goodbye to her friends a bit longer. Don't you?"

"I'll see them once we all get home. At school at the very latest."

"Suit yourself."

"Is that a new scarf?"

Russia looked pleased. "It is. Katyusha made it for me."

"What happened to the old one?"

"I carefully packed it. Why?"

Alfred shrugged. "Just wondering."

Russia stopped walking, suddenly, and Alfred came to a halt as well. "What?"

"Did you hear something?" Russia frowned, head tilted as he listened.

"No..."

"It sounded like furniture being thrown around."

Alfred shrugged. "Maybe Antonio and Romano are fighting. Or getting it on. Hard to tell, with those two."

"Hmm."

The sound of a gun cocking, though, was very close. They both turned. Alfred swallowed thickly, finding himself staring down the barrel of said gun.

"Hello," said the man behind the weapon. He was about Alfred's height, with unruly brown hair and mirthful hazel eyes. His expensive-looking suit was impeccably tailored. "And you must be Alfred F. Jones, formerly the United States of America. And Russia! How nice to find you here, too."

Alfred licked his lips, trying to calm his hammering heart. Heroes didn't freak out at a mere gun, dammit! "H-how do you know who we are?" He did _not_ just stutter...

"You certainly played a part in that," he said, voice pleasant. "You talk loudly, my friend. About things you probably shouldn't out in the open."

Alfred stared at him, shaking his head in denial. He was at fault? No, no way. His friends... something had probably already happened to them! How could that be Alfred's fault? He was... a hero...

"I don't like you," Russia said. Any normal person would have dropped their gun and sprinted in the opposite direction.

"That's nice." So apparently that guy wasn't normal.

"You can't kill me with a gun. And I don't like you..."

"No..." His smile widened. "But I can kill him." He gestured toward Alfred with the gun.

"That is true." Russia frowned. Alfred was slightly alarmed that he seemed to be considering. "I will try and behave, I suppose."

"Thanks," Alfred muttered.

"I do not really believe that he will kill you, though," Russia told him. "He seems to be interested in you."

The man actually laughed. "No, I don't wish to kill him. But humans are fragile, and he won't heal as easily as you, either, correct?"

Russia seemed to spot something behind Alfred, gaze shifting slightly. But before Al could turn around to look, strong arms came around him, and a sickeningly sweet, damp cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth. Alfred quickly held his breath, struggling, watching Russia's expression grow dangerously angry (how could anyone see that and not be terrified?) The brunet man merely watched with a friendly smile, gun not wavering.

Alfred could only hold his breath for so long. He gasped for air, inhaling the sweet fumes, and his vision darkened, struggles growing weak. The world spun away, and he went limp in his captor's arms.

* * *

_Ah, baddies finally rearing their ugly heads. If you're thinking they just came out of nowhere, these are the same ones who made cameos in chapters 8-9. ;)_

_Yeah yeah, War of 1812, everyone's written about that. lol Though most people portray Canada as being personally responsible for the Burning of Washington. Everything I've ever read about the incident has mentioned only British soldiers. -shrug- Ah well. It amuses me that just about every hockey discussion I've ever seen online has included some form of "Yeah, well, we burned your White House." "Yeah, uh, no you didn't..." XD_


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"-fred! Alfred! Wake up, dammit!"

He didn't want to. Even as he swam back to consciousness, Alfred kept his eyes squeezed tight. He didn't want to see what his fate was. He didn't want to see what everyone else's fate was because of him.

"Shit, Alfred, please open your eyes..."

That voice sounded familiar. _He_ hadn't been captured, had he? With a surge of panic, Alfred's eyes snapped open, and he looked up into wide green ones. "E-Eng..."

"Thank god." England scooped Alfred up into his arms. Alfred could feel the nation's heart thudding wildly.

"Where...?" Alfred weakly looked around, realizing with a start that he hadn't even moved. He was still in the same hallway. There were dark bloodstains scattered on the floor around him. "Russia?"

"Russia?" England held Alfred at arms' length to look at him. "Was he with you? You were still on your way out to eat, right?"

"Yes." Alfred's chest hitched. What had happened? Had Russia saved him? Was the blood his? Oh no...

"There's no one else here," came France's voice from down the hall. "The room is all in disarray."

"What happened?" England demanded, staring at Alfred with wide eyes. "Who did this?"

"I don't know." Unwanted tears welled in his eyes. The words kept repeating in his head. _You certainly played a part in that._ This was his fault!

"Al..." England tugged him back into his arms. "Shh. We'll find them. But you have to tell me what happened."

"I... it was a man in a suit."

"Is that all you remember?"

"Nothing stood out. Brown hair, light eyes. Nobody I recognized. I didn't see what happened to the others, Russia and I had just left."

"Who all was there? What others?"

"The other humans. And Romano. And Cuba."

England nodded. "Okay. It's okay, keep going. What did the man in the suit do?"

"He was pointing a gun at me. He knew my name. Human _and_ country. He said he knew because he'd heard me! This is all my fault, he said, I talked too loud where they could hear me!"

"Shh." England rubbed his back. "It's not your fa-"

"It is!" Alfred let out a shaky breath. "Then someone was behind me, I never saw who, and he held a cloth to my mouth, and that's the last thing I remember."

"Stop crying. We'll find them."

"I'm not crying. This was-"

"And stop saying it's your fault." England helped him to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Alfred wobbled a bit, but his strength was returning.

"Is he okay?" France asked, approaching. "What happened?"

"A mass kidnapping, apparently," England said, voice grim. "Humans, Russia, Romano, and Cuba. We'd better get everyone together again while they're still here. Somewhere besides this place, obviously."

"_Merde_... I'll take Al back to your place."

"_I_ can manage, thank you." England's arm tightened around Alfred. "Come on..."

"I'm okay," Alfred said, trying to pull away. "I don't need to go home. I should stay. They'll want to question me, anyway, and-"

"Let's just get you home," England said. "Worry about the other stuff later."

"But-"

"Later."

Alfred relented and allowed himself to be shuffled into England's car, and they returned to his house. Nothing was said on the trip, though England kept throwing worried glances his way. England _might_ have said something, really, but Alfred was lost in his own little world—a world where he _wasn't_ a hero, but a loudmouthed idiot who put his friends in danger and was helpless to do anything for them.

"Come on."

"Huh?" Alfred looked up, blinking.

"We're here."

"Oh." Alfred slid out of the car. Appropriately enough, the bleak clouds and drizzle had returned. England put an arm around Alfred, ignoring protests that he was fine, and they headed inside.

"Do you want something to eat?" England asked as he tucked Alfred into bed. He found himself feeling as comforted as embarrassed by the situation—it felt more like his big brother acting, rather than lover. Or a strange combination of both.

"No."

England sighed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Alfred frowned slightly as a thought occurred to him. "Why did you come back? Did somebody see something?"

England shook his head. "France stopped by and decided we needed to get out and eat something, too. So I tried to call you to let you know, and obviously you didn't answer. Nor did Russia. So I called Belarus, and she was still waiting for you and couldn't get a hold of you either. So we went back."

"Oh." Alfred found himself hoping the staff at that place was okay.

"I need to go soon." England settled on the bed beside him. "Just sleep while I'm gone, okay? Don't leave the house."

Alfred shrugged slightly. "Where would I go?"

"I don't know. Just don't." England hugged him close. "I'd stay if I could. Do you want me to find somebody to come stay with you?"

Alfred shook his head. Anyone he would want nearby was either going to be at England's impromptu extra meeting, or... It hit Alfred hard that he'd barely even seen his friends in the time they'd been in London. Had he even really hung out with Kiku since he met Canada?

"Is there anything else I should tell them? Could you tell if they were targeting you guys specifically, or all nations?"

"Us," Alfred said. "He treated Russia like a nice bonus."

"All right." England released him with obvious reluctance. "It's a damn good thing I'm not mortal. It'd have shaved a few years off my life, seeing you sprawled on the bloody floor." He made a face. "It probably did, anyway."

Alfred managed a smile. "Yeah, well, when I heard your voice, I thought for sure you'd been captured, too. I was about ready to start some shit."

"Hmm." England's own smile was wan, but still teasing. "It looked to me like you curled up in a ball."

"I said _about_ ready."

"Ah, of course." England leaned in to give him a lingering kiss, then parted with another sigh. "Okay. I had better go."

Alfred nodded. He snuggled down beneath the covers and closed his eyes, unaware that England remained nearby until he was asleep.

* * *

England pushed open the door to the meeting room of the building France had texted him about. Apparently the nations had already been briefed on the situation, judging by the way the entire damn world immediately pounced on him, expressions ranging from worried to frantic.

"Sit down!" England said, trying to make himself heard over all the voices. He wasn't successful. Italy was sobbing and China was pawing at England and Hungary looked ready to do war and Canada looked ready to join her and everybody was _not helping his growing headache_.

A gunshot rang out—England had no idea from whom—and _that_ managed to quiet the group down. France had been right—for entirely different reasons. England really should have reinstated his anti-gun laws after the war. Maybe this whole kidnapping ordeal could have been avoided... or postponed, probably.

"Thank you," England muttered, rubbing his head as everyone finally, reluctantly sat. He couldn't blame them for the chaos. "Obviously you heard the news."

"Is Alfred okay?" Canada asked softly, eyes wide.

"He's fine," England said with a nod. "Shaken and upset, but fine."

"Have you heard anything else?" Hungary demanded.

"Not really. Just that it seems pretty certain the humans were being directly targeted, with the way Russia was treated as a nice bonus."

"How'd these people even _know_?" Denmark said, outraged. "They shouldn't even know about _us_, let alone them!"

"I don't know..." England said. He damn well wasn't going to tell them that stupid bullshit Alfred believed about it being _his_ fault. Like they hadn't known anything beforehand, and just _happened_ to overhear, and decided to throw all this together in a very short time. It was ridiculous. But the last thing Alfred needed was for someone _else_ to believe it, and blame him.

"We have to find them!" Italy wailed. Germany was promptly at his side, putting an arm around the distraught nation. England winced at the suffering in his voice. As did Canada, who moved to Italy's other side. After probably a lifetime of worrying about his own brother, he could relate.

"We will," England said. "A group of kidnappers and eleven kidnap victims don't just disappear. We'll be able to find them."

"Ransom?" Netherlands spoke up suddenly.

"Ransom?" England shook his head. "I doubt that. Why go to all this trouble, and specifically target us, just for ransom? Any rich person's kid would do."

"I don't know." Netherlands shrugged slightly. "I just thought, if I were a human kidnapper interested in getting as big a ransom as possible, and I discovered there were people out there representing entire countries... And _then_ discovered that they had recently acquired more vulnerable human friends that were very important to them..."

"We can't rule out anything at this point," Germany said. "Though I'm less concerned about motive now than just finding them before they get too far away."

"I'm worried about the motive!" Italy said, burrowing further into Germany's arms. "What if their motive is to kill them!"

"Then they probably would have," France said.

"Or worse!" Italy continued. "Like... like Japan..."

A tense silence fell over the room as everyone really, really tried to not think about that. They looked around awkwardly at each other, until England cleared his throat.

"We'd better get out there and start snooping around, while the trail is still fresh," he said. "If we have no luck, we'll start seriously coming up with some plans." He quickly sorted the nations into groups, and gave them tasks and places to go.

"Forgotten again," Canada sighed as the rest of them filtered out.

"I didn't forget you," England said. "I'm the host country, so they're expecting me to take charge. Otherwise I'd go home to Al. So you should go..."

"Oh." Canada smiled, just a little. England couldn't be sure if he was genuinely happy about his assignment, or feeling left out of the search.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of the others, but Al is especially miserable because the jackass kidnapper managed to convince him this was his fault. Why he believes it so easily, I don't know..." England quickly went over everything Alfred had said, Canada wincing.

"All right. I'll try and cheer him up."

* * *

Sleep hadn't lasted long, and it hadn't been pleasant. No visions, just nightmares about the potential horrors being inflicted on his friends. Alfred had eventually ended up seated outside at a table, drinking leftover tea that had long since grown cold. And that was where Canada found him.

Alfred leaned into his brother's silent embrace, not standing from his chair. They didn't move for a long moment, and he appreciated the quiet hug, the lack of pity.

"You're okay?" Canada said when he finally released him.

"Fine," Alfred said with a nod.

"You don't look fine."

Ah. There came the pity and worry. "Well I am. I'm here, aren't I? And not a bruise."

"Al..." Canada frowned. "You know what I mean."

Alfred let out a long sigh. "I know. But I'm okay." He used his fingers to pull the edges of his lips into a smile.

Canada swatted at him. "You're such a dork."

"But I'm your guys' dork."

"I know. But how can I not worry when you're drinking tea?"

"I like tea!" Alfred couldn't stop a little chuckle from escaping. "England said it was the principle America didn't like."

"Good point." A bouncy pop song unfamiliar to Alfred started to jangle from the vicinity of Canada's pants pocket. He retrieved his phone and examined the caller ID with a sigh before answering. "Hello, Mrs. Jones."

Alfred groaned.

"Oh, sure, everything's fine." Alfred would have to thank him later for fibbing. "Al? He's, uh..." Canada glanced over at Alfred, who shook his head. He didn't want to talk to his parents just then. "He's out and about, sorry." Bless him. "Ah, actually, no. There's been a change in plans and we'll be staying a while longer. … I'm afraid I don't know how long. … Oh, sure, of course I'll look after him, Mrs. Jones." Alfred rolled his eyes. Then Canada's expression grew awkward. "Um... I really don't think—well, uh, I guess... if it means that much to you... Mom." Alfred groaned again. "What's that? Oh." Canada threw Alfred a slightly annoyed look for some reason. "He told you about that, did he... Uh, sure. I don't see why you can't have a villa there." Oh. Alfred smiled slightly. That. "You're welcome, Mrs.—ah, sorry. Mom."

Canada started pacing around, and finally got to the topic Alfred had been trying to bring up, which his mother kept managing to skillfully avoid. "I have to know. How did you _find out_ about, you know, us? … Uh huh... I see..." Was he actually getting somewhere? Then his expression grew alarmed. "I can't believe you did that! … Er, no, no. I'm not raising my voice to you."

That drew another chuckle from Alfred. He settled back to patiently wait for his crazy family to finish their discussion before he could question Canada.

"Well?" he said, once the phone was tucked away.

"She _spied_ on us!" Canada said, still looking rather outraged. "When America and I were talking quietly together when the refugees were all asleep. She couldn't sleep, so she spied on us. I don't really remember what we talked about, but..."

"Apparently she heard enough. And believed you." Alfred made a face. That still didn't explain why she had known (or just guessed) that _Alfred _was... oh, well, whatever.

Canada nodded, settling into a chair across from Alfred. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I worry about you."

Okay, that was getting a little annoying. His friends were in trouble, and everyone was worried about _him_! "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"I know. But I can't help it. I hate seeing you like this..."

"My friends are in danger! I'm upset and worried, why _would_ I act normal?"

Canada pursed his lips. "Al. If _I_ had nearly been kidnapped and was all freaked out, we both know you'd be worried."

Alfred opened his mouth to retort, but realized that wouldn't be possible without lying. Okay, yeah, he'd be worried as hell for his freaked out brother... "Shut up."

"Idiot," Canada murmured, though not without affection. "Of course we're going to worry when you're blaming yourself for all of this."

Alfred looked away, a slight blush spreading over his face. "Wouldn't you?"

"No. I'm sure he was just feeding you a line to make you feel bad, I highly doubt overhearing you was the first time they knew about any of this."

"Hmm." He wished he could believe that. "You're worried about them, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. But panicking won't help anything." Canada scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I can panic _after_ we've found them." He stood, moving closer to Alfred. "Now come on. Stop blaming yourself and moping around. We should see if the others need a hand doing anything." He smiled suddenly, leaning in and placing his hands on the arms of Alfred's chair, reminiscent of their first meeting. "You're totally a hero, right?"

Alfred couldn't help but grin. "Damn straight." A hero wouldn't have gotten his friends in trouble in the first place... Alfred shook his head slightly. It didn't matter. A real hero would get past that, and do what he could to help his friends, rather than worry everybody else. "What should we do now?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Canada straightened, patting his stomach. "Let's fix something to eat."

"Pancakes?"

"Hm... no. Let's make something different for a change."

"Waffles?"

"Oh, yum."

* * *

_Ow_, was Kiku's first thought as he came to. His whole body was sore. His head was throbbing. His mouth was dry. He was cold. And he couldn't move. What had happened? Chaos, that was the last thing he remembered. Men bursting into the rooms, weapons, panic, fighting...

Where were they?

Slowly, oh so slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing at even the tiny amount of light. He waited for his eyes to focus and gazed around, taking in his surroundings. "Oh god..."


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Kiku swallowed, trying to dampen his parched throat. He met the frightened gazes of his friends—those he could see, anyway. They were in a large, bare, gray room. Along the walls were what seemed to be medieval style shackles, which imprisoned each of them. Across from him was Antonio, who was nudging at a still-unconscious Romano slumped against him. Near those two were Katyusha and Lakshmi. He could see more of them out of the corner of his eye, but his head and his neck and his _everything_ hurt too much to move and look. He could only assume everyone was there. The air was cold. His mind helpfully supplied him with the image of a giant, chilly tomb. He could make out fluorescent lights overhead, though they shed no light on the dim room. He could identify no source of what little light filtered in.

"Hey, Kiku..." Antonio looked up with a humorless smile. "You're up, too, then." He gave Romano another nudge, chains rattling ominously. "I bet they gave the nations a stronger drug or something..."

"What's going on?" It was a dumb and cliché thing to ask, but Kiku had to ask it.

"You know as much as we do," Vash growled from Kiku's left. "Some fuckers knocked us out and brought us here."

"Why us?" Lili moaned. "We haven't done anything."

"Probably some enemy of the nations," Vash said, voice softening as he answered his sister. "Getting back at them through us. I _knew_ nothing good would come from consorting with them."

"Don't say that," Kiku said. "It's not their fault."

"Doesn't change the fact that we seem to be in deep shit because of them."

The room filled with quiet sobbing. Kiku couldn't swear to it, but it sounded like Yong Soo.

Romano finally lifted his head, to Antonio's visible relief, and they went through the confusion and questions again. And again when Cuba came around.

Kiku shivered as the chill settled into his bones. He tried to keep the panic from overtaking him. At least until they actually knew what was happening. His mind tried to come up with possible scenarios that could start with them kidnapped and chained up but not end too terribly. Unfortunately, his mind kept roving back to his predecessor's unpleasant death (which he had had the fortune of not being forced to relive, though he knew not all his fellow former nations were so lucky) and that was not helping.

"Alfred's not here," Lakshmi said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. "What are they doing to him?"

"Eh?" Kiku shook off his thoughts. "Alfred?"

"Oh," Katyusha said, "no, no. He's okay. He left, remember? With Russia, just before... before they showed up."

"I remember," Lakshmi said. "That would be a comfort, if Russia wasn't right over there."

Kiku craned his neck to look where she was indicating, ignoring the sharp pain that sent shooting through his aching head. Sure enough, off in a corner was Russia, who seemed to be starting to regain consciousness. He had been stripped to the waist, his bare torso wrapped in dirty bandages. Whatever wounds they concealed were probably healed by then. Had they already done something to him? Kiku swallowed again, licking his cracked lips. Had they tortured Russia, then moved on to Alfred? Who was next?

"Russia!" Katyusha weakly cried. "Are you all right? What did they do to you?"

Russia turned toward her, looking dazed, mumbling something in his own language.

"We've been captured," Katyusha said, probably answering a question of his, keeping it in English for everyone else's benefit. "What happened to you?"

Russia blinked at her. He _must_ have been thoroughly drugged. "Alfred and I... we were walking down the hall." He briefly recounted what had befallen them, their confrontation with the amused gunman, and Alfred's capture. Russia had been a _little_ upset, and had attacked them, only to be shot and he lost consciousness. And that was the last thing he recalled.

"But... Alfred is not here?" Russia said.

"No shit," came a new voice, and everyone was forced to look around to find its source, groans filling the room as sore muscles were strained. Kiku hadn't even been aware of a door opening to admit him. The newcomer who finally walked into view was fairly tall, hair dark (it could have been brown, it could have been black, hard to tell in the dim lighting), face friendly. Kiku wondered if he was the man Russia had described. "Thanks a lot," he added, scowling at the big nation. "Though I can't blame you for everything. I suppose we should have taken him first, instead of your heavy ass."

"Ah," Russia said, and Kiku turned to look back at him. Russia actually seemed to be smiling his usual weird smile. "So you did not get him. How nice."

"Yeah, great," Vash said, dismissive. "Can we get to the important stuff? Like, who the hell you are and what you think you're doing with us?"

"Me?" The man's annoyance faded and he was all false smiles again. "I'm Spencer. Currently of Toronto, originally from New York."

Kiku sagged against the wall. So their kidnapper—or one of them, anyway, probably the one in charge—was another war refugee. Great. At least there wasn't any possibility of him being one of them.

"As for what we think we're doing with you," Spencer continued with a shrug, "we're merely curious. Aren't you curious about your existence? Just a little?"

"Everyone's already tried to figure us out," Antonio said. "They didn't have any luck."

"I study nations a _little_ differently." Spencer wandered in further, hands clasped behind his back. "Don't get too cocky, my interest didn't _start_ with you. I found out about the nations long ago, before the war. I was even able to get my hands on a couple. Small nations nobody even missed, easy to cow into never revealing our experiments."

Oh, Kiku did not like the way he said 'experiments'...

"But when I found out about your existence... nations that died and were reborn as humans... my interest had never been greater. What a fascinating mystery to solve! Not to mention you would be so much easier to apprehend than the real nations, though I thank you for helping me acquire a few in the process."

"That is all?" Roderich said. "You are merely curious about our existence?"

"You want to _experiment_ on us?" Katyusha said, voice trembling.

Spencer shrugged again. "What can I say? I'm a man of science, with an insatiable curiosity and a vast interest in the living nations. But no, that is not _all_. Just most..." They waited for him to continue, but he didn't divulge any more.

Kiku shivered. It was just as he had feared. He was going to be tortured again; that seemed to be his fate in all his lives. His only real consolation was that he could die easier than Japan had... The others would be trying to rescue them, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Just like he wasn't getting his hopes up that Spencer would be merciful, use anesthetic, or anything like that. No, he seemed like the type who didn't mind causing pain. Kiku squeezed his eyes shut and tried to channel his past self. He would be brave, like Japan.

More men joined Spencer. When Kiku dared to look, they were merely waiting impassively while Spencer studied over the room of captives. Finally, his eyes settled on Antonio. "Let's go with Spain first. Take him to the lab."

"Hell no, you sick bastard!" Romano snarled, eyes flashing. "Touch him, and all of Italy's gonna be on your ass!"

"Hm." Spencer eyed the furious nation. "Isn't that cute." He nodded to the men with him. "Change in plans."

"He can't really do anything, sir," one of them protested.

"Oh, I know." Spencer smiled. "I meant, take Mr. Carriedo _and_ Italy Romano."

Kiku twisted away as their captors started tugging out keys to free the pair. These people really were twisted... He wanted to be brave, but he just couldn't watch as Antonio and Romano were unchained, cursing and audibly struggling—even without looking, he could tell how weak they still were. The door soon creaked open then slammed shut behind them; the captives were left in silence again.

* * *

Alfred strolled into the meeting room, feeling a mild sting of annoyance at the way all conversation ceased. They were either talking about sensitive issues related to him, or were just plain excluding him from nation business. Either way, they could try and be a bit less obvious about it.

"Hey, everyone. Notice anything different?" He leaned forward.

"New outfit?" England guessed.

"What? You _bought _this shirt for me."

England just shrugged.

"Your hair?" France said. "Nantucket is leaning a little to the left today."

Alfred stared at him a moment before remembering Nantucket was a part of his hair. "Uh..."

Prussia chuckled. "So if _that's_ leaning a little to the left—ow! Dammit, England, don't do that!"

"Okay, stop guessing. It's my glasses!" Alfred smiled. "These were America's, I got them fixed."

"Well you're just collecting everything of his," France said. "So what can we help you with?"

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted to see if you guys needed any help."

"Oh, you bet," Prussia said. "We could use some coffee, and—ow! _Dammit_, England!"

"Do you have any helpful suggestions?" France said, speaking loudly over Prussia's protests.

"Well..." Alfred said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe a giant-"

"No." France and Prussia said together.

"Actually, I have a favor for you..." England said, rummaging in his satchel. He thumbed through a stack of papers and who knew what else, selecting a fat manila envelope.

"Is this going to help with the search?" Alfred said, eagerly accepting the offered paperwork.

"Sort of. It'll free some time for me." England actually looked a little sheepish. "It's some official business I wanted to hand-deliver..."

"Official business?" Alfred gave his eyebrow-rich lover a blank stare, then looked down at the envelope in his hands, reading the name and location printed on it. "I don't know that I'm comfortable getting involved in your government."

"You're just delivering it," England said. "And there shouldn't be anyone who recognizes you. Not too much, anyway."

"Recogni—oh." Alfred sighed. "Are you sure there isn't something I can do to _actually_ help?" He _hated_ being left out. They were _his_ friends, dammit! And... no, no, that was all. He had promised to think positive.

"We'll find a job for you, I promise," England said, though his tone of voice didn't exactly get Alfred's hopes up.

"Right." Alfred turned to go, but hesitated. "So, uh, will they know who this is from? I mean, if they ask... what do I call you?"

France chuckled. "Oh, Alfie." Okay, who had taught him _that_? "He's not a one night stand, you should know his name."

"That's not what I meant!"

"They'll know what it is," England assured him. "So, uh, the deadline's coming up."

"Right, right..." Lovely. Anything could be happening to Kiku and Russia and the others, and Alfred was running stupid _errands_. At least, he supposed, it was a step up from fetching coffee...

* * *

China plucked a hair off the floor and held it close between glove-encased fingers, studying. "Hm..."

"Well?" Italy said, hovering nearby and wringing his hands.

"Black."

Italy sagged. "So just Kiku's?"

China tucked the hair into a baggie. "It's the most common hair color in the world. It could be anybody's. It could be _mine_." He levered himself upright using the table, casting his gaze around the meeting room—still untouched and in disarray. Any of the 'clues' they were collecting could have come from any time. For all he knew, they were gathering evidence that would incriminate an innocent janitor or something. The only evidence they could be certain was from the kidnapping were the specks of blood scattered about. China sincerely _hoped_ they were from the bastards behind this. Kiku wouldn't give in without a fight. Nor the others, but especially Kiku.

"We'll find them, right?" Italy asked in a quavering whisper.

"Of course!" Hungary said before China could answer, straightening up. "These idiots don't know who they're messing with! I'll find them and _end them_!"

Italy smiled wanly. "This is because of us, isn't it?"

"What?" China said. "Them being...?"

Italy gave a miserable nod. "If it weren't for us, they'd all be safely in their homes..."

China winced, but he had to admit, it was almost a relief that Italy was placing the blame on _them_. Better, perhaps, than blaming the poor ex-nations for getting Romano in trouble. "They'll be fine." They had to be. "So don't worry about whose fault anything is. It's the kidnappers' fault."

"I don't want them to hate us..."

"They won't hate us."

"I want to do more than this!"

China gave Italy a quick hug. Really, the poor guy was just expressing what they were all feeling inside. It was so _frustrating_, not being able to figure out where such a large group vanished to! Being forced to painstakingly hunt around for minute clues, instead of charge off with a rescue mission...

"Oh! Did you find something?" Noticing that Hungary had a piece of paper clenched in one hand, China hurried over. "What is it?"

"Hmm?" Hungary glanced his way, and shook her head. "Oh, no. I didn't find it just now." She unfolded the paper and held it up, revealing a half-finished sheet of music. "Roderich was writing it. It's about me."

China peered at the rows of music notes. "He told you that?"

"No. But I can tell from reading it."

"Oh."

"We should do something nice for them," Italy said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "For when they get back."

"Like what?" Hungary said, tucking her unfinished sheet music away.

"I don't know! What's something they would all like?"

"Hockey tickets?" China guessed.

"Money?" Hungary said. "Isn't that what college students all need?"

"Something more personal!"

"Their own nice chunks of land?" China said. "It's not fair that only Alfred got one."

"Yeah!" Hungary brightened. "They should all have bits of land, as close to their original country as possible. I know a perfect spot for Roderich..."

"What about Romano?" Italy said with a pout. "And Cuba, and Russia."

"They're easy to shop for," China said. He couldn't help but smile. Mapping out new territory for the former nations would be a nice way to occupy their minds, when they weren't busy investigating. He could think of plenty of nice spots in his own country he'd be okay parting with, he could give Kiku a choice! Wouldn't they all be surprised when they got back. _When_, definitely when, not if.

* * *

England's normally warm and inviting home had the big, echoey, sad sensation of a house not in use. Alfred flung the front door closed, calling out for his nation lover without expecting an answer. Alfred had had the place to himself the previous night, too. He didn't have the slightest idea when England was sleeping, if ever. It sucked that he was expected to be in charge of everything, just because he was the host country!

Well, his own mission had been successful, at least. Alfred had played his part in keeping the UK running. And he had only received a few curious glances from some of the older folks he had run across. No gasps or shocked stares. It almost made him kind of sad. America was already forgotten by the British government.

The task, he knew, really was no different from fetching coffee. He knew damn well that England had only chosen that specific chore because its seeming importance wouldn't make Alfred feel as useless as a lesser task would have. He wasn't entirely sure that England's plan had worked. He utterly hated not being involved! But he knew that they didn't think a human, hardly more than a kid, would be able to help. Well, it wasn't like _they_ were being all that successful!

Alfred was hungry. And tired. He supposed he could mourn his lack of usefulness in the morning.

After a quick dinner of cereal and ice cream, followed by a long, hot shower, Alfred crawled into bed. It was big, and cold, and lonely. His mind shied away from wondering how long it took England to get used to his big empty bed after losing America. On the other hand, they probably hadn't shared a bed all that often. It wasn't like they had lived together.

Alfred turned out the lights. After about an hour of staring at the clock radio, he located the phone and tried calling England. No answer. He didn't bother leaving a message. He tried Canada next, with the same results. He couldn't think of anyone else. He wished he could call Kiku and invite him over...

With a heavy sigh, Alfred flopped back down and resumed watching the minutes slowly pass, waiting for dawn.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hoigh. My apologies to everyone that's reading any of my other chapter stories, or people I promised a gift fic to. x_x Starting next month-ish, I'll be working part time, and will have more free time! Maybe. My official schedule will be 'on call' so my hours are anybody's guess. XD Who knows, maybe I'll be more busy instead.  
_

_Hehe, people _still_ keep asking about WWIII. XD So uh... sorry? I never intended to detail WWIII, it's supposed to be an alluded-to backdrop rather than a main focus. Most of it's just... up to your imagination!  
_

_Buuut, because I love you guys, I'll give you one randomly selected character as being on the other side in the war. So... uh... please don't hate me if you don't like him having been a 'bad guy'. ^^;_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

For once, happy visionary dreams did not soothe Alfred. Oh sure, it was better than the regular dreams he had been having of late, which involved his missing friends and what could be happening to them. It was a relief to instead have one of his 'real' dreams, of good times America spent with England, Canada, and Japan. But really, all it did was remind him how much he missed those individuals _now_. Especially Kiku, of course. But dammit, he didn't like that England and Canada were so close but he still hadn't seen them for days. Oh, he knew they were keeping an eye on him, but he had been unable to catch more than a brief glimpse in the crowd that may or may not had been somebody he knew.

The happy 'memory' his nocturnal vision had summoned was the last straw. He was going to find the busy nations and at the very least sit nearby... Many things Alfred was, but solitary was not one of them. Why were they doing this to him? He could be useful, dammit!

The various meeting areas were empty. As was Canada's hotel room. Alfred was almost wondering if something had happened to everyone else as well. But his rising panic eased when he saw a couple of the nations walking around in a hurried rush, but not appearing more worried than previously. Some asking around finally revealed that England had indeed acquired a hotel room for himself, to cut down on the commute. And the airhead had forgotten to tell Alfred. Lovely.

A few choice phrases were running through Alfred's mind as he stormed down the hotel's hallway. They abandoned him, excluded him, and England _moved out _temporarily without telling him. Somebody was going to get a piece of his mind.

Alfred lifted a fist to knock, but stayed his hand when he heard more than one voice in the room. Hmm, what was going on? Dare he listen? It might have something to do with his friends, which of course nobody was discussing around Alfred. Lovers should have nothing to hide, anyway. So he quietly leaned closer and listened.

"That's not much," England was muttering.

"I know." The other voice was definitely France. "But I actually came here to tell you something else..."

"What's that?"

France cleared his throat. "Some of the others that aren't helping with the search have still been investigating the humans. They've managed to find an old spell they believe will restore their memories."

Alfred jerked in surprise, jaw dropping, previous anger forgotten (as was his disbelief in things like _spells_). Really? They could restore his memories of being America? … He wasn't sure what to think about that...

England, though, seemed to know exactly what to think. "They have? Th-that's _incredible_! They can all-"

"There's a bit more," France said, and his voice wasn't as happy as one would expect.

"That doesn't sound good."

"No." A pause. "It seems that restoring the old memories will destroy the new."

Alfred blinked. He didn't really mean... did he?

There was a long silence on the other side of the door. "Wait," England finally said. "You mean _all_ of their recent memories? Since they were born?"

"Yes."

Alfred's heart froze in his chest. No no no... that was what he'd been worried about ever since he had accepted the whole crazy situation. That America's memories would replace his and he would... cease to exist, pretty much. And of course England would want that! Oh, he'd probably ask first, but... Could Alfred even continue a relationship with somebody who basically said "Sorry, chap, I do like you, but I'd prefer to wipe your brain so you can be somebody else, jolly good."? Or continue to love him? Well, yes, he'd love the idiot no matter what he said or wanted... But no matter how happy it made England, Alfred just wasn't ready to give up his existence for him...

"No!"

England's loud response snapped Alfred out of his worried musings. He blinked in surprise. _No?_

"No?" France echoed.

"Absolutely not!" England actually sounded angry. "What a suggestion! I'd never... sacrifice Alfred like that!"

"Well," France said, "it's not really _sacrificing_ him. Nothing will happen to him. He just-"

"I know what'll happen! He'd have only America's memories, and it would be like Alfred never existed! I _love_ Alfred. The way he is. I don't want that!"

"Really? Are you sure you don't want to think-"

"I'm sure! I wouldn't even if the spell _also_ restored his nation-hood and immortality!"

"_Angleterre_..."

"It's out of the question. What did the _others_ say about this?"

France chuckled softly. "Actually, you're the first one I've told."

"Nonsense. You said some of the others were the ones that found-"

"That was a bit of a fib, I must confess. The whole thing was, really. You of all people should know there is no such spell!"

The following silence was long, and rather frosty. Then, "What the _fuck_? You just made that up to have a little _fun_?"

"Now now, _mon cher_."

"Don't call me that!"

"I was just curious!"

"Get lost!"

Alfred didn't even think to hide when the door swung open and France sauntered out. Surprise flickered across France's face when their eyes met, then he grinned and winked before heading off.

Alfred watched him go, then raced past the open door, pulling England into his arms before the nation even had time to realize who he was.

"I said get _lost_, what the hell are you doing, you—A-Alfred?"

Alfred said nothing, just held England tightly, burying his face in the nation's hair.

"Ah... how long have you been there? Did you hear all that? You shouldn't eavesdrop, it's impolite..." England trailed off, wrapping his arms around Alfred.

"Sorry," Alfred murmured into England's hair. "I love you, too." He was firmly telling himself to not cry like a girl again. But hearing England say that he'd rather be with Alfred for his comparatively short life than with America forever... at least, at the expense of Alfred. If there were a way to combine the two, Alfred knew England would take it. But still...

"Idiot," England said affectionately. "What are you surprised for? You thought I'd want to do it?"

Alfred sniffled. "Idunno. Maybe. Especially if it was forever."

"I wish I could keep _you_ around forever," England said, sadness creeping into his voice.

Alfred winced. They didn't talk about his mortality often. "I know."

"I'll keep looking for a way. But aside from actually taking you to Hawaii, I can't think of anything else..."

"It's okay. I'm kind of used to the idea of being mortal." Alfred finally pulled away from England and smiled at him. "Just promise you won't be miserable forever after I die, okay? You should, Idunno, find someone else or something."

"Alfred!"

"What? I'm serious! I don't want you to be all depressed for all eternity. Or alone. You shouldn't go out and start dating the very next day, but..."

"I don't want someone else," England huffed.

"What about Canada? He's like a quieter, longer-haired me." Alfred smiled. "I _know_ you've been kissing him by mistake."

"That's irrelevant." England hugged him again. "I promise I won't be depressed for all eternity," he said. "Now you promise that if you _must_ die, it'll be of old age."

Alfred couldn't help but chuckle. As if he could _promise_ that. "Well, I'll try."

England gave him a tender kiss, then drew back again. "Good. So that's enough talk about that."

Alfred nodded. "I'm sorry about the nasty things I was thinking about you."

England blinked at him. "Nasty things?"

"That's why I was coming here." Alfred smiled sheepishly. "I've been alone for days, you know. I didn't even know you were staying here, I was worried."

England frowned slightly. "I told you I was staying here."

"No you didn't."

"I did! I called you and told you. You said that was fine."

"I don't know who you called, but it wasn't me..."

England stared at Alfred a moment, then sighed. "I suppose I might have called Canada..." His frown deepened. "Damn, I'm sorry, Al. I guess we've all been ignoring you, huh? This has all been so crazy. It's like they disappeared into thin air!"

"Let me stick with you," Alfred said. "I can help!"

"Alfred..." England ran a hand through his hair. "I'd really prefer if you stayed out of it."

"I know you think I'm just a dumb human kid, but I really want to help!"

"It's not just that..."

Wait, was England saying he _did_ think that? Jerk.

"I just... don't want you involved," England said. "They're probably still looking for you, you know?"

"So I'd be safer with you!"

"I'm sorry." England reached over to caress Alfred's cheek. "I'll make it up to you later." He glanced around the room. "And if you aren't busy, I don't have to be anywhere for an hour, and we seem to be alone... Do you want to?"

After several days alone, _and_ after listening to England's touching conversation with France? Alfred's answer was to shove England toward the bed.

* * *

The door had opened again. Worry flared up in Kiku, as it did every time one of them was taken away or returned. He slowly pushed himself upright from his resting spot on the floor, grimacing in pain as he tried not to aggravate his wounds or pull open stitches. Whose turn would it be this time?

A couple of the men, overlooked by Spencer as usual, were returning Russia. Kiku couldn't even remember when he had been taken away. He must not have been conscious then. The large nation didn't even struggle as he was returned to his corner and re-shackled.

"That was weird," Spencer muttered to his companions as they straightened. "Have you ever cut into somebody who was _giggling_? Or offering advice?" He shook his head. "Creepy."

In another time, Kiku might have smiled at the thought of his captor being weirded out by one of them. But he just watched impassively as they left the modern dungeon without a backward glance, door slamming shut behind them.

"Doing all right, Russia?" Antonio asked weakly. Kiku gave the room a quick scan. It didn't seem that any of them were currently awake besides the three of them.

Russia shrugged a shoulder. "They are scientists, not professional torturers."

Kiku shivered at the thought of what was being done to them being dismissed as no big deal. "Antonio," he said, cringing at the weak croak his voice had become. "Have you... have you had any nice dreams recently?"

Antonio managed a smile. "I've been dreaming of Romano a lot, when he was little. He was so... so cute."

Kiku smiled back at him. "I dreamed about playing video games and watching movies with America. Isn't that a silly thing to remember? If it weren't for us calling each other different names, and being in a living room I didn't recognize, I might not have known it was even a scene from another life."

"Have you dreamed your death yet?"

Kiku flinched away, shaking his head as much as he dared. "No. I don't want to..."

"The death itself wasn't bad," Antonio mused. "It didn't even have time to hurt. It was all the attacks on the country leading up to it that _really_ hurt. It was terrible, feeling everything that was being done to the land."

"I'm glad I'm human," Kiku whispered, with a guilty glance toward Russia, who didn't acknowledge the comment. Judging by his apparent lack of concern at his current predicament, though, Russia was probably used to such pain.

Antonio nodded in agreement. "Being able to die easily isn't that bad. If we are never rescued, at least we have that." He huddled closer to Romano, probably thinking about how the nation he loved had no such escape available to him.

"_Nyet_," Russia murmured. "That is not a good thing."

"You would prefer to stay here forever?" Kiku said. "I would rather die."

"Being tortured forever does not bother me," Russia said, dismissive. "The thought of nothingness does."

Kiku looked away, shivering again. Was Russia afraid of dying? That added a whole new level of wrongness to the world.

"You won't die, little brother," came Katyusha's quavering voice. Kiku felt a twinge of guilt, wondering how much of their less than optimistic conversation she had been awake for. "I won't let you. And you can't, anyway. They're just a group of scientists."

"I don't wanna die, either," Yong Soo wailed. "I wanna be rescued, I'm tired of them hurting me!"

"They will come," Russia said.

The door opened again, and the captives collectively held their breath, wondering which of them would be next.

"Mr. Edelstein, I think," Spencer mused, stepping closer to Roderich and nudging him with his foot until he received a moan in response.

"You are Turkish," Russia said suddenly. Kiku turned to study Spencer in surprise, though the man still looked of European descent to his eyes.

Spencer glanced up from the slowly-wakening Roderich, eyes narrowing. "You are observant."

Russia just shrugged.

"Well yes, if you must know. My mother was Turkish, my father was American." He smiled grimly. "That's how I discovered the nations. I ended up meeting Turkey when I was young. He was nice to me..."

Kiku had no idea what might have become of Turkey the man. He knew the country had been nearly destroyed—as close as the other side had come to losing one of their own countries. What did _almost_ dying do to one of them?

"Ha. Let me guess." Romano had also awakened at some point. "After the war you were discriminated against for your heritage, right? _And_ your beloved nation friend is in a coma. Now you've got this great sob story and your experiments on us also have some revenge to them."

Spencer chuckled. "I suppose you could say that. It's a nice bonus, anyway. You are correct in your assumption of how warmly I've been received since the war, whenever my mother's nationality is discovered."

"Poor thing," Romano said with heavy sarcasm. "Good job improving your country's reputation." He gave a pained grunt when Spencer kicked him hard in the ribs. They all winced at the loud _crack_, and Antonio went rigid with anger.

"Do you want to take him instead?" one of the other men said, eyeing the paling Italian.

"No," Spencer said after a brief pause. "I'll deal with him after his bones knit. Stick with Austria." He nodded briefly to Roderich in passing as he swept out of the room.

"You idiot," Antonio hissed after their chosen friend had been taken away. "Don't antagonize him!"

To everyone's surprise, all Romano did was offer a pained apology.

* * *

Canada paused, moving to the edge of the sidewalk to let what few people were left at that late hour pass by. He tugged his wallet out and peeked inside to make sure he still had some cash on him. It would be nice, he decided, to drop by and visit Al. And maybe he would forgive Canada's recent busyness if he came bearing fast food.

He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. It was so _maddening_! Every time he thought he had found _something_ useful, it wasn't. A hot tip about a group being led to the airport that had sounded like them turned out to be a damned tour group. Canada had sure felt stupid making _that_ report.

He could sure go for a night of greasy food and cheesy movies with his brother.

"You!" a voice behind Canada gasped. It was quite late, there weren't many other people left to be the recipient of that startled accusation. Canada glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, the man near him was staring his way.

"Yes?"

"I've been looking for you!" And before Canada knew it, he had a gun pointed in his direction.

Canada jerked in surprise, eyes locked on the gun. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a weapon seriously pointed at him. What the hell was... wait... "Oh!" Canada's eyes widened. "You're one of _them_!" But why were they looking for him?

Oh.

Ohh... Well, shit. They were keeping an eye on Alfred, but nobody had thought to give _Canada_ a bit of extra protection.

Canada narrowed his eyes at the man, quickly forgetting any danger he was in. This was one of the people who had captured their human friends, was doing who knew _what _to them. Who had tried to take Alfred, and was still planning on it.

"I'd prefer not to kill you, Mr. Jones," the man said. He wasn't the one Alfred had described. At least, the hair was the wrong color. Alfred hadn't given a whole lot of details. "Are you going to come along quietly?"

Canada's response was a harsh "Fuck you."

The bastard smirked, cocking his gun. "Wrong answer. I guess we do this the hard way..."

* * *

_^^;; Sorry, Turkey, buddy. I don't like making any of the characters into bad guys! lol_


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

England nearly dropped his biscuit when a loud female voice crowed in his ear. "We got the bastards!"

"What?" England wiggled a finger in his ringing ear as he glanced over his shoulder. Hungary was bouncing in excitement, beaming. A smile crept over England's face. That sounded like good news indeed! He flicked a glance toward Alfred, wishing he weren't there. "You found them?"

"We will!" Hungary waved her arms around. "We captured one of them! He's being held downstairs! Guarded by Germany and Prussia. We'll be able to get him to talk, easy!"

England _really_ wished Alfred wasn't there. "Sit down!" he said, grabbing for the pissed human's arm. "You aren't going to go kick his arse."

Alfred looked torn. "But...!"

"No, Alfred. We need him in one piece."

Alfred scowled as he dropped back onto the chair. England heaved a sigh of relief, grateful that Alfred was going to be reasonable for now. "So how did you find him?" he said, turning back to Hungary.

"Canada did! Apparently this fellow thought Canada was Al and tried to capture him."

England grimaced. So they _were_ still looking for Alfred... "Is Canada okay?"

"He's healed now, yes."

"Oh, _shit_." England dove after Alfred, tackling him to the floor just as he reached the doorway. "Dammit, Hungary, all you had to say was 'yes'!"

"Sorry!" Hungary hurried over to lend a hand in pinning Alfred down.

"Let go!" Alfred growled, trying to twist out from under them, craning his neck around to see them.

"No. Settle _down_, dammit." England glared down at him. He tried not to flinch away from the furious blue eyes few people had seen off the battlefield. "Canada's _fine_. This man has been captured. He's going to lead us to the others and we can _rescue_ them. We can't do that if you decide to murder him."

"And I'd beat your ass," Hungary added, receiving a startled look from Al. "No going near this fellow for you. Canada's resting up in his room now! Go see him."

"Fine..." Alfred sighed. His captors stood, and Alfred pulled himself up onto hands and knees, then to his feet.

Hungary patted England's shoulder as they watched him go. "He'll be less bloodthirsty once we've rescued everyone."

England made a face. "I hope so."

* * *

Alfred barged in without bothering to knock. Brothers had some privileges, after all. "Canada! Are you okay? Oh." He was asleep. Oh well. He looked rather cute, book still in hand and glasses about to fall off. Alfred tiptoed closer to the bed and reached over to remove the glasses, but Canada's eyes blinked open before he had a chance. "Oh, hey, bro."

"Do I even want to know what you're doing?" Canada asked, the end of his sentence muffled by a yawn.

Alfred smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "I was trying not to wake you, but—oh right! I came to see how you were doing. That guy hurt you!"

"They told you about that?" Canada fixed his glasses, himself, and sat up.

"Hungary did. I'm guessing I wasn't supposed to find out." Alfred couldn't help but scowl. He wasn't supposed to find out _anything_.

"Well, no... because you'd worry, not because you don't deserve to know."

"I'm allowed to worry! And, you know, they stopped me before I could go rip the guy's face off and dry it and feed it to him as jerky..."

"Eww." Canada laughed. "Well, thank you, but I'm fine. I mean, he had a gun and I had nothing, something was bound to happen."

"Man..." Alfred shook his head in wonder. "You dragged in an armed criminal with your bare hands? You are _awesome_!"

Canada looked a little flustered. "I can't remember the last time anyone called me awesome."

"Well you are! And now we can rescue everyone!" Alfred quickly squashed the sudden flare of jealousy. He was _not_ going to think about how he wished _he_ could have dragged in a bad guy, all triumphant. Hey, if it had to be someone else, at least it was his brother, _and_ his country. Not to mention, if it had been Alfred, he'd still be in the hospital, lacking the nifty healing immortality skills. That would not have been so awesome.

"Al..." Canada stared down at his blanket, biting his lip. "So, you do know... um..."

"They won't let me go on the rescue mission?" Alfred guessed, and his twin winced. "I figured... Yeah, yeah, fragile human, blah blah."

"I'm sorry..." Canada tugged Alfred down to sit beside him. "And I'm sorry I've been ignoring you lately."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Don't you need to get back?"

"Nah." Canada echoed with a smile. "I'm good for tonight, they'll call me when they want me. Let's watch movies. I think there was something on about an evil haunted house..."

"Oh." Alfred's eyes widened. "G-good!"

* * *

"So apparently they're here." Germany pointed to the small speck on the map.

England peered closer. "That island? It's been abandoned since the war."

"Sounds like a good spot, then." Germany nodded to himself. "Apparently there's a building complex not far to the south of the airport."

"But won't we have to go by plane?" Italy said, frowning. "They'll see us coming!"

"Only if they're watching for us. It sounds like they're busy..."

"Oh." Italy scrunched his face up unhappily. Canada hurried in just then, saying something about sleeping in, and they paused to fill him in on the details. China and Denmark then got up to leave, to get supplies together.

"Do you _have_ any planes left?" Germany turned back to England.

"Ah..." England shrugged. "Just one. I had a lot of repairs all over the country to pay for, you know..."

"Obviously. We all did. So where is it?"

"Oh, it's not going to help." He stared down at the map, feeling somewhat useless. "It only seats one person."

Germany sighed, folding his arms. "That's the one you chose to keep?"

"It was one of America's favorites!"

Germany ran a hand down his face. "If you had kept planes based on how much America liked them, the hangar would be full." Germany's frown grew. "Didn't you think, in all this time we've been searching, that we might have to go by air when we rescued them?"

England scowled at him. No, as a matter of fact, he had not really thought about the possibility of needing more planes. He supposed he probably should have.

"So we have to find another one," Canada said with a sigh.

England hesitated a moment, thinking. "Do that." He turned to leave.

"Eh? Where are you going?"

"There!" England gave a cocky grin and thumb's up worthy of his lover. "While you guys are getting together a decent-sized plane and whatever supplies we'll need to patch everyone up, I'll go on ahead and see what I can do."

Canada stared at him. "And what _can_ you do?"

"Get them out? Then we can wait for you." He couldn't stand the thought of them remaining these people's captives for a moment longer than they had to. Who knew how long it would be before their rescue team was fully ready to go.

"But...!" Canada bit his lip.

"You're sure?" Germany said.

England nodded. "I want them out of there now." He hesitated at the door. "Don't tell anyone else." He left before anyone could come up with a reason for him not to go.

He wasn't afraid—not for himself, anyway. He had done far, far more dangerous things in his life than infiltrate an enemy base. Really, the only concern he had was for something happening to the captives before he was able to free them all. He would just have to ensure that did not happen.

His house was empty when he swung by to grab some supplies—snacks, weapons, and a first aid kit that probably wouldn't be of much help but it was better than nothing—so at least that was something to be grateful for.

Something caught England's eye before he headed off. A red and white sock left on the living room floor for some reason. He smiled to himself, hoping Al would forgive him for just taking off. For no real reason, he picked the sock up and tucked it in a pocket. There were nicer tokens to hang on to, but hey, it was there.

After one last look around at the house he hadn't even used in a while, England left.

* * *

Kiku gazed across the small room at Lakshmi, mostly because that was the direction he was facing. They had been brought to the 'lab' together, and he wondered just what they had in store. Those that had dragged them in hadn't even bothered with restraints. The captives' bodies were too damaged, too weak from the constant drugging. Nobody even needed to worry about them escaping. At least, not the humans. The captive nations, though, would not escape on their own even if the opportunity arose. The three of them had all expressed outrage when the suggestion was brought up.

"How long have we been here?" Lakshmi wondered after a long silence.

"I don't know," Kiku said. "Half hour?" He wasn't sure if he wanted Spencer to continue to take his time, or just get his ass in there and get it over with.

"I meant... here. Overall."

"Oh." Kiku didn't really want to think about it. "I have no idea."

"Will they come?"

"Of course. Once they find us."

"How will they-"

"We've all gone over this a thousand times," Kiku said softly. "Nobody knows. But they will. These guys can't hide from the world forever."

"I can't wait to see Hungary again," Lakshmi murmured. "And Mexico." She continued to list the nations she had befriended, probably talking mostly as a comfort to herself. It was better to chat, even if it was about nothing, than to concentrate on the dreaded room they were sprawled on the floor of, with its tables and stained sinks and medical supplies that frequently involved sharp parts...

Kiku snapped himself out of his dark musing. Lakshmi had moved on to talking about a slumber party she had had with some of the female nations. Had he felt better, he would have been very interested in hearing about that pillow fight, but as it was he just half-listened without much interest.

Lakshmi trailed off when the door opened at last. Kiku was vaguely surprised to realize he _was_ almost relieved. Waiting in the lab with his imagination was almost worse than the actual tests. Well, not really, but... still. They could get on with it now, get drugged back into oblivion, and wake up later chained up in their room.

How strange to think of what was essentially a dungeon as 'his' room.

It was one of the generic goons of Spencer's. Kiku had no idea what anybody else's name was. Where was the man himself? Was this not important enough to warrant his attention?

The usual gut-churning fear gripped Kiku as he was hauled upright by the fellow. _That_ never went away. He was settled onto one of the tables, limbs carefully straightened out. He wasn't even restrained this time. They always used restraints, so maybe that meant it wasn't going to be that bad?

Kiku's bandages were unwound, and the man started cleaning his wounds. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Lakshmi watching them with an unreadable expression.

"You're just regular humans," the man muttered, startling both captives. "Don't know why he's so keen on this, we haven't learned anything interesting. Now the nations..."

Kiku said nothing. He wasn't going to ask the obvious. He didn't want to be freed at the expense of the three nations.

"So no more procedures for a while," the man went on. "It's been decided that you need time to heal."

Oh. Well, Kiku supposed that wasn't terrible. A reprieve, while waiting for the others to locate them.

Fresh bandages were applied, and he moved on to Lakshmi next. Kiku wondered why the two of them had been selected. Probably random. Or maybe they had been the only ones conscious; he couldn't remember.

How long would it take them to satisfactorily heal? He had no idea. Hopefully long enough.

* * *

England strode toward the hangar, mouth set in a grim line. During the war, it had been fully stocked. Now just one lonely plane—of America's of course, he had probably claimed half of them (owned, not so much, but claimed, yes)—remained behind. It had been his second favorite, nicknamed Freedom (he never had been very creative with names). His favorite—Glory—was, well, a ruined heap.

"You can't do this!" came a shout from behind him, as footsteps rapidly approached.

England grimaced. _Oh no..._ Where had he come from? How had he found out? Eavesdropping again, maybe. "Go back home, Al."

"No way!" Alfred fell into step beside him. "Why do you have to go?"

"I'll be fine."

"You could get captured!" He stopped, gripping England's arm to force him to come to a halt as well. His sky blue eyes had gone a little wild.

"If I do, I do. The others will be along as soon as they can."

"But...!"

England gave him a grim smile. "Unless they happen to have a large amount of heavy artillery pointed at the UK, they aren't going to kill me."

"They could hurt you."

"I'm not like you, Alfred." England sighed, knowing he'd probably never really understand. "I've been around for a long time. I was an empire. I can handle people like them."

"England..." He was staring at the ground. "This is my fault."

England grit his teeth, turning back toward the hangar. "Not this again. I thought you'd-"

"I'm supposed to be a hero. I want America to be proud to be me!"

"That doesn't even make sense. You _are-_"

"England?"

"What?" He turned. The last thing he saw for a while was Alfred's fist hurtling toward him.

* * *

"Ow... goddammit." England rolled to his knees, gripping his head. "If that idiot knocks me out one more time, I... oh no." He scrambled to his feet and raced for the hangar, panic bubbling up. _You bloody idiot!_

He couldn't have been unconscious for more than a moment or two. Alfred was still there, settled into the plane. What the hell did he think he was _doing_?

"Get down from there!" England yelled. "You don't even know how to fly it!"

"Apparently I do!" Alfred called back, waving. "Who'd have thought?"

"Get down anyway! You're not going by yourself!" Him, they could kill!

"No way! I'm a hero, remember? I'm going to make this right!"

"Dammit, Alfred, no-"

"Goodbye, Iggy."

England could only stare in horror as the cockpit was sealed. _Not again. Not again. _And suddenly, all he could remember was the _last_ time, and what he had done wrong. What had haunted him for twenty years. He waved wildly to get Alfred's attention. He couldn't convince the idiot to come back, he was too America for that, but he could at least give them a proper parting this time. "I love you!"

Alfred smiled, mouthing the words back.

Before he knew it, the jet was gone. England stared after it in mindless shock for a moment, hands slowly curling into fists. Then he turned and drove one of the fists into the wall with a cry that had nothing to do with pain. "You bloody idiot!" He started there, and ran down his list of choice insults. "He... he really can fly the damn thing..." he finished weakly.

Germany had been right. Damn it. This was _exactly_ why England and the others had decided to exclude Alfred from their search. Because he'd do something stupidly heroic! Oh, sure, he had also wanted to keep Alfred out of it in case they were still looking for him, but... stupid heroics had been the most important reason. Germany had figured it would be safer to include Alfred, keep him involved, not make him sit around wishing he could do something... It was obvious! They should have listened to Germany. But it was too late now.

"Be careful, you stupid goddamned idiotic _hero_."


	22. Chapter 22

_Haha, action isn't my forte. Sorry if this chapter is a little fail. ^^;_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"England?" Canada looked up. "I thought you were leaving. We haven't even started-"

"Then start!" He glared around at the assembled rescue team. "Why are you just sitting here?"

Canada placed a hand on England's shoulder, worry etched onto his face. "What's going on?" He peered closer, frowning. "Do you have a black eye?"

"He went instead!" England shoved the hand off.

"Who?"

"Alfred! He punched me in the face—_hard_, the little twat—then he took off while I was out for a bit!"

Canada, as well as everyone else, looked baffled. "Took off _where?_"

"In the plane!" England yelled. "To do what I was going to do!"

"But..." Canada looked back and forth between England and the shocked group. "But how? He won't be of any help. He can't even fly!"

"Apparently he can, because he did!"

"England! Settle down!" Germany snapped before the gaping North American nation could respond. "Just calm down. If he's caught, they won't kill him. They'd wanted to capture him in the first place. His fate won't be any worse than the others'; we'll rescue them all."

England let out a shaky breath and nodded, trying to force the panic aside. He couldn't afford that now. And at least Germany didn't say 'I told you so'...

"All right," England said, once he had successfully pushed the part of his brain that was freaking out away for the time being. "Come on, Canada."

Canada blinked at him. "Where are we going?"

England smiled. He didn't notice the way the other nations flinched away from him. "To get ready."

* * *

Alfred huddled down among the plants, eyeing the guards. They were considerably better armed than he was—which consisted of a gun and small knife he had taken off England—and it would be silly to get shot before even getting inside.

The flight over had been... exciting, to say the least. Part of his brain knew exactly what it was doing, feeling excited to be at the controls. The rest of his brain had been screaming at him in terror as he'd never had a flying lesson in his life. Yet he had managed to safely land at the correct island, using the map and things he had swiped earlier. Better not to think about it.

Could he shoot them from afar? Before either of them could shoot him? And before everyone inside was alerted? And in a manner that incapacitated them without killing, because... he didn't want to kill anyone?

Yeah right. He wasn't even sure if it was possible to shoot without killing. Didn't they always say to never point a gun at something you didn't want to die?

Could he even _aim_ the damn thing properly?

Maybe he hadn't thought this through very well...

It hit him all at once. Of course he could get inside! Quite easily. But could he keep his gun? He didn't want to face a bunch of men armed with guns, with only a knife. Should he get rid of it? If he did, and they never searched him for a weapon, he'd be pissed at himself for getting rid of his weapon. If he kept it, and they found it, they would probably treat him much less kindly. With a sigh, Alfred tugged the gun out and hid it under a bush. Now he just had to hope the knife was overlooked...

Taking a deep breath and trying to convince himself that he wasn't insane, Alfred strode forward, directly toward the guards. He tried not to cringe when _really big guns_ were pointed at him. "Hello." Oh dear god, did his voice just crack? He cleared his throat. "Don't shoot, the people here are waiting for me."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Alfred F. Jones. The one that got away?"

They exchanged a baffled glance. "Why the fuck would you turn yourself in? What are you planning?"

"Nothing! You have my friends, and I don't like the idea of them suffering while I get away without a scratch." His heart thudded wildly. He was a terrible liar, that was for sure. He was going to be shot right then and there...

But the fatal shot didn't come. After another confused glance, one of the guards carefully approached Alfred and patted him down. He held his breath, praying to every deity ever. The guard straightened back up without discovering any sharp instruments of death, and Alfred struggled to not look relieved.

"Seriously," the other one said. "Why the hell did you come here? You took the trouble to find this place, and get here, just to turn yourself in... because you felt bad for your friends?"

Alfred shrugged. "I felt like it was my fault. I don't know. Are you going to take me to the guy in charge, or just stand around chatting me to death?" The butt of one of their guns slammed into the side of his face, and he tumbled to the ground. Blood welled in his mouth from his bitten tongue, and he spat, raising a hand to his aching face. He was just about to reach for his fallen glasses when a hand gripped his collar and jerked him back to his feet. "Hey...!"

The guard stepped on the glasses with a smirk. Alfred winced at the _crunch_. "Sorry. Did you need those?"

"You ba... er..." Insulting them didn't seem like a good idea. But he had said enough, and the same gun was rammed into his stomach, doubling him over. Alfred wasn't allowed time to recover, shoved inside once the doors were opened.

Panic was starting to grip Alfred. How the hell was he supposed to save anyone when the world was all fuzzy? He could just see himself acquiring a gun, and not hitting a damned thing. Not that he had any experience with guns at all, but hopefully the same instincts that had flown an airplane would kick in.

They were dragging him down a hallway, but that was about all he could decipher with dim lighting and impaired vision as he was hustled quickly along. There was a lot of gray and white, though, and the floor sure wasn't carpeted. It felt like a giant dungeon. Or hospital. He wasn't sure which was worse.

They rounded a few corners before finally selecting a room to enter. It wasn't where his friends were being held; Alfred hadn't figured he would be so lucky. No, it was a man's office. Even with his features a little blurred, it was obvious this was the same man who had confronted him and Russia.

"The _hell_?" the man said in obvious surprise, standing up. "Where did you find _him_? Why wasn't I informed?"

"We didn't know until just now, Spencer," one of the other men said. "He just showed up and turned himself in."

Spencer snorted. "A rescue mission, then? He wouldn't have come alone."

"I'm alone," Alfred protested. "I'm not dumb enough to think marching in here alone is a good idea if anyone else was with me."

"I'm not so sure about that..." Spencer stepped around his desk, moving closer. "You, get some of the others and scour the island."

"Right." One of the other men released Alfred and turned to leave. Well, at least that was fewer captors to worry about...

"I don't understand why you are here," Spencer said, frowning at Alfred.

"I'm not too sure, either," Alfred said with forced cheer. "But here I am. I didn't like knowing my friends were here while I was free, and like you said before, this was my fault..."

"Hm." Spencer gave a dismissive shrug. "Whatever. Did you get new contact lenses?"

Well that was random. "No. Your goons here broke my fucking glasses."

To his surprise, Spencer actually gave the other man an annoyed look. "Don't do things like that. We're scientists, not bullies."

Well. Alfred was reassured.

"You do look better without them," Spencer mused, stepping a _little_ too close. His smile was that of a child at Christmas. "Ah, there is so much I can do with you! Your friends have gotten a little worn out. I won't be able to do many more experiments on them until we give them time to heal. Your timing is fortuitous."

It was a struggle to not launch himself at the bastard right then and there. But knowing there was a bullet with his name on it if he tried such a thing kept Alfred from throttling the so-called scientist.

His anger fizzled into confusion and something else (not fear, of course) when Spencer took another step closer, reaching out to stroke a thumb over Alfred's cheek, creepily close to his eye. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Did you know," Spencer said, his voice like that of a lecturing teacher, "the nations really have incredible healing abilities."

"Uh. Yeah? I knew that."

"Did you know that if you remove an eye, then put it back in, it eventually heals as good as new?"

Alfred cringed away, trying to escape the caressing thumb, gaping. "Holy fuck, did you actually _do_ that? _Ew!_"

"I did. I wouldn't want to try amputating much else, but that one worked."

This rescue mission had not been one of Alfred's better ideas, he was starting to think. "I'm telling you right now there's no need to experiment further with that. Any bits you remove from me would stay removed."

"Oh, I know." Spencer's smile grew. "What I've been wondering, and dying to test ever since it occurred to me, is where their healing ability lies. In every part of them? If I were to, say, swap eyes of a human and nation, which eye would heal? The one of human origin in a nation's body, or vice versa?"

Alfred swallowed. "Uh. I don't think it works that way..."

"I will try that. I'm very excited about this one! If it works, I might just do the other eye, too. Maybe you won't even need glasses anymore!" He released Alfred, thoughtfully stroking his chin like a cartoon villain. All he needed was a mustache to twirl. "With Romano, perhaps, the little bitch has been pissing me off. And you'd look better with brown eyes, anyway." He grinned. "Brown was more common in America, you know."

Alfred just stared at him in disbelief. If he was unable to escape, this was _really_ going to suck.

Was that really the sort of thing his friends had been put through? Thank goodness he hadn't eaten anything recently, or he'd have lost it. Possibly on Spencer, though, and that would have been okay.

"Why us?" Alfred blurted. "If it's the nations you're interested in... in doing sick tests with... why were you so intent on getting _us_?"

"Because you were the ones who intrigued me the most," Spencer said. "Dead nations reincarnated as humans? I had to know everything about you." He heaved a bitter sigh. "Unfortunately, you really are just regular humans."

"So let them go!" Alfred said. "You've learned all you can about us, right? Wanting to know what bits of nations heal where is stupid. You've done plenty! And it won't work! And they've got lives to get back to, school to go to, nations to run or whatever..."

"That's for me to decide. Well," Spencer said, turning back toward his companion. "I have a few things to finish up here. Take him to the lab for me."

"Eh?" Alfred didn't like the sound of that. Were the others there? He let himself be pulled along, out of the room and back into the hallway.

"Glad you came?" the man said with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

He was propelled along once more, focusing on his mission rather than, well, anything else. He wouldn't think about what had been done to his friends, because he was going to rescue them. And he wouldn't think about what could be done to him, because he wasn't going to fail. If he ended up as a tortured captive, he would _never_ hear the end of it from England.

The room he was shoved into next made Alfred's skin crawl. It looked like an operating room, only probably less sterile. There were shelves and trays of... things that made him glad for the lack of perfect vision. He was pushed closer toward metal tables with... restraints? Restraints that had held his friends down as they...

Alfred slowly turned on his captor, vision growing red. The man just smiled at him, not realizing the danger he was in until it was too late. Alfred's attack took him completely by surprise, leaving him no time to utilize his gun, rendering it practically useless in such close proximity aside from as a club. But Alfred barely even noticed the desperate blows raining on him, punching and clawing and kicking and kneeing in the balls until his opponent was curled up on the floor. He snatched the large gun out of the beaten man's nerveless fingers. He looked up then, and to his credit, did not whine or beg as his eyes met with death staring down at him.

"Bastard," Alfred muttered. "Like I'd kill you. I'm not one of you." He slammed the butt of the gun into the man's face, just as he had done to Alfred earlier, but with much more force. He went down in a heap. Alfred hunkered down to rummage through pockets, retrieving any keys he found and tucking them away. He quickly left the 'lab' behind, not wanting to be in there more than a second longer, and leaned against the door for a moment, pondering. He probably had the lab key now, and toyed with the idea of locking it. Dare he? No, no he couldn't do that. If the guy wasn't released sometime soon, that would just be cruel. And besides, Alfred was _pretty_ certain he had broken his jaw (oops) so he was probably no longer a threat, even free. So that was one bad guy down. Two, assuming the one sent out to search the island took his time.

Maybe this would be easier than he had thought.

* * *

The third... scientist?... Alfred ran into went down just as easily as the first two. The building wasn't exceptionally busy, but Alfred was pretty certain it was early. Maybe they were late risers? Or maybe there weren't many to begin with. Whatever the reason, he wasn't complaining, as he crept through the bleak gray and white halls with his newly acquired gun/club held tight. He did rather hope he found the captives soon. The only people who had seen him out and about were unconscious, but once they woke up...

Alfred turned a corner, and damn near ran into scientist-wannabe number four. The fellow gave an unmanly yelp, yet he was able to look _down_ at Alfred. Dammit, why weren't any of them the petite nerdy types one would expect? They probably weren't scientists at all.

Both taken by surprise, they hesitated for just a split second before they attacked, Alfred trying to whack the guy in the head with his gun, while he went for Alfred's gut with his fist. The taller man was just a bit quicker, but Alfred wasn't about to let one little punch defeat him. He twisted away, throwing random taunts at the scientist, easily avoiding additional blows. All for retribution, even if this was the wrong guy, Alfred drove the gun into his stomach, then kneed him in the face when he doubled over, toppling him to the ground. He was still conscious, so Alfred figured now would be a good time to get some answers. He still had no desire to kill anyone, but _they_ didn't need to know that. He aimed between the eyes, plastering on a grin.

He glared up with blazing eyes. "You little brat."

"Little?" Alfred protested. "Just tell me where the captives are and you can live."

He grit his teeth, clearly not wanting to answer. Alfred started to wonder what he would do if his bluff was called and the man didn't talk. Fortunately, he didn't have to find out. "Down that way, take a left, third door on the right, then the door at the end of that hall."

Alfred kind of wished he had a notepad and pencil on him. "Thanks, pal." He managed to knock him out without causing too much additional damage, and as usual, rummaged for keys. He walked off, mentally repeating the directions to commit them to memory. The last thing he needed was to get _more_ lost.

The door he was directed to didn't look any different from the others. Alfred fumbled around with his key rings until he found one that successfully unlocked the door, and swung it open. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what may very well be an unpleasant sight...

Alfred flinched back, stomach churning at the sight of his friends and Cuba chained to the walls, bandaged and generally awful looking, all slumped over and unconscious. After another deep breath, he closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. "Hello?" Or maybe they were just sleeping. "Guys? You okay?" Or maybe some of them were dead. "Guys!"

Russia's head slowly lifted. "Hm?" He blinked in the dim light as he straightened. Alfred glanced around to locate a light switch, but found none. "Interesting. You look like-"

"It is me!" Alfred grinned. "Hey, buddy." He tugged out the rest of his keys. There were a lot of them. This was going to be interesting. "Just gimme a moment, and I'll hopefully free you."

"Al?" Lakshmi opened her eyes, but didn't otherwise move.

"Yup, it's me!"

He went through variations of that several times as the rest of the captives awoke. To Alfred's great relief, they all _did_ wake up, though the humans were barely able to muster the strength to lift their heads. Only Russia seemed fine, Cuba pretty close. Romano remained sluggish, but that was probably from whatever they were being drugged with.

"You finally came," Katyusha said, mustering a small smile. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you. Where are the others?"

"Oh, they're coming," Alfred said, trying yet another key in Russia's creepy old manacles.

"Where are they?"

"Uh..." A key finally turned with a successful click, and Russia was free. "Hopefully not still in London. They were looking for better planes when I left."

"You came _alone_?" Antonio said, and Alfred gained many shocked looks.

"Well, yeah, there was only one plane..." He cringed at the outrage being expressed, that the nations would be foolish enough to send Alfred. "It was my idea, okay? England was going to come, but I couldn't let him! I mean..." He shrugged, scooting over to Vash as Russia tried to successfully regain his footing. "I didn't want him to get hurt."

"So... let me get this straight," Cuba muttered. "England was going to come. England, who is, like, thousands of years old. Has been a pirate, an empire, and god knows what else. Has fought in more battles than your brain could possibly conceive of. And is, you know, pretty much immortal. And you came instead to protect him."

"Shut up," Alfred said with a glare. "I'm here rescuing your sorry ass, aren't I?"

"Damn. You are _really_ America."

"Thank you." Alfred managed to free Vash, and moved on to Lili. It took some time, but at least he wasn't missing any keys. Eventually, everyone had been released from their manacles, though most of them remained slumped on the floor.

"Okay," Alfred said, scanning the group. "Russia and Cuba and I are going to have to get the rest of you out of here." And pray that they were able to make several trips without being noticed. And that they could successfully find the exit.

Wait...

Something seemed off. Alfred looked back over the freed captives, wondering what it was, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling their abused states caused. What was it? They had been happy to see him, they had been shocked, a little angry, too abused and weak to do much besides smile at him, but he had freed them, and now they were going to get the hell out-

Oh! That was what had been missing. A happy reunion between best buddies...

"Where's Kiku?"

The others exchanged baffled and worried glances, and Alfred's heart sank. They didn't know, either?

"Kiku..." Roderich frowned. "He isn't here, is he..."

"He _was_ here," Antonio said. "He was here last time I was awake."

"They must have taken him," Yong Soo wailed, and the others shushed him. "He's probably in the lab!"

"I just came from the _lab_," Alfred said. "Well, I took the scenic route to get here, but it wasn't too long ago." He sighed. "But I'll go back. So Russia and Cuba, it's on you guys to get everyone out of here. Find a good hiding spot outside, where you can protect them from any of these scientist fucks. I'll find Kiku..."

Cuba looked doubtful. "Maybe I should-"

"I'll find Kiku!" Alfred said firmly. "You guys have been drugged out of your minds, I could wring you out and open a pharmacy. And I can't imagine you've moved much in ages."

Cuba grumbled and scowled, but he didn't object further. Once Alfred made sure the two nations were okay hauling limp humans off, he set out once again.

Where could Kiku be? Who had taken him, and when? Surely Alfred would have seen them if somebody had decided to drag him to the 'lab' after Alfred had left.

Strangely, Alfred ran into no opposition as he searched. He occasionally heard footsteps, but that could have very well been his friends. Sometimes he thought he even caught a glimpse of somebody out of the corner of his eye. He started to hope he was just imagining things. If they knew he was there, but purposely avoiding him... Well, that either meant he was just that awesome, or they had something bad planned.

Naah. He was just that awesome!

While he wasn't running into any bad guys, he also wasn't running into Kiku. Surely they hadn't taken him somewhere else entirely, right? Of course not, the head honcho was still there (and where was he during all of this? Still jerking off in his office?). One of his prisoners wouldn't be removed without his supervision. Alfred hoped.

He came to a door that looked a little different than the others. He couldn't put his finger on it. Bigger, probably. But he was pretty certain he hadn't been inside yet. Alfred tugged the door open, weapon ready for whatever lay within. As it turned out, what lay beyond the door was without. So, the door looked a little different from the others because it was the back door. End of the line. He had thought for sure he had checked the whole damn place; where _were_ they?

"I thought you'd never come."

Oh. Eyes narrowed, Alfred stepped outside, unconsciously holding his breath. That Spencer guy had been waiting for him. Great. So Alfred's hunch about the other scientists avoiding him on purpose had been correct. Alfred remembered that breathing was a good thing, and took a deep, not-entirely-calming breath. "Where are you?"

"How could you miss us? Damn, you _are _blind."

Alfred glared around. Ah, there they were, that _was_ rather noticeable. Spencer was seated in a helicopter, what looked like a gun pointed toward the limp form slumped against him. "Give Kiku back! What do you _want_?" He had to want _something_ from Alfred. Why else would he choose Kiku to take hostage? "You said yourself they're of no use to you until they heal!" Spencer just watched. Alfred couldn't make out his features, but he was probably smirking. "You want me, is that it? I'm healthy! You can do whatever you want with me, just let Kiku go!" He chewed on his lower lip. England was going to be _really_ angry with him now, but oh well...

"I might just take you up on your offer," Spencer said, and Alfred's heart leaped (with relief, still not fear). "If you come meet us. Not here!" he added when Alfred took a step forward.

"Why _not_ here?" Alfred demanded, already growing tired of games. "I go to you, you toss Kiku out."

"Oh, there is another experiment I have been wanting to try..."

Oh _no_. "Where do you want to meet?"Alfred asked wearily, though he had already guessed.

"Hmm. How about your old capital?" And with that, Spencer pushed Kiku aside, and the helicopter blades sprang to life, drowning out the possibility of further conversation.


	23. Chapter 23

_Before you ask, no, I don't really know why Germany's not with them there when he'd been with the planning group before. He just... uh... had other business come up! Yeah._

_If you haven't read _Korean Spirit_ by natcat5 yet, you should! It's a sidestory for Second Chance, of South Korea's POV during WW3. :D  
_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"He's not _here_!" England wanted to punch something—or someone—in frustration. He didn't even care if somebody in the complex heard him. Alfred's plane had not been at the small airport.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Italy wondered, staying far back from England.

"Of course not! Someone who doesn't even know how to fly never reached his destination! Not a good thing!" And the thought first and foremost in his mind, of course, was how America had died. Were their reborn selves doomed to repeat history? Maybe Alfred's fate had always been to be shot down while flying off to... well, America hadn't been trying to _rescue_ Japan. But maybe Kiku was already dead. Maybe _his_ fate was to be the same as well, and he had already succumbed to whatever tortures they had inflicted.

"He's been here," came Canada's soft voice. He was kneeling on the ground, not far from the building's entrance.

"What?" England shook off his thoughts, letting Canada's words sink in. He wasn't sure if he was hoping he'd misheard or not. Was Alfred better off floating somewhere in the Atlantic, or a prisoner here? Well, at least here they could rescue him. He swallowed and approached the young nation, the hem of the coat he had donned for the chilly island swirling around his calves. His heart sank when he saw what Canada was holding: a very familiar pair of glasses, lenses broken once again. "Oh. He just had those fixed..."

"What does this mean?" Canada barely spoke above a whisper.

"I don't know. He somehow landed somewhere besides the airport? They captured him and ditched his plane somewhere?"

"Or he already rescued them and left," Italy suggested brightly.

"In that little plane?"

"Oh... Maybe he already rescued them, and left in one of the bad guys' planes! And one of them took Al's plane."

England frowned, wondering at the possibility of that. To be honest, he didn't have high hopes for Alfred's flying ability. It made him think of those old cartoons where somebody would walk on air, perfectly at ease, until he looked down and realized what he was doing, then fell. Once the desperate need to get here had passed, would Al still be able to successfully pilot anything?

"So what do we do?" China wondered. "They might not even be here anymore, aru."

"And they might still be," England said. "Or somebody inside might know something about where they are, if not." He pulled out one of his guns. "We're going in." That just didn't feel right, though. He tucked the gun away and turned to Denmark, whose gun was _much_ bigger. "You have your axe, you don't need that." He pulled the weapon away before the larger nation had time to protest, enjoying the weight of it in his hands. (Denmark quickly stepped away when he noticed Canada eyeing his axe) "That's better," England said. "_Now_ let's go."

"Maybe we should look for a back entrance..." China said, trailing off as England marched toward the front door. "Well, okay, but let's be quiet, aru."

England kicked the door in.

Canada was right behind him, and the others hurried to catch up as England stormed the building. He almost immediately ran into a small group of inhabitants, who gaped as they were overtaken by a small, pissed army. England kicked one in the chest, as if he were kicking in another door, sending him flying backward. Before the other men could do more than stare in shock, Canada sent another one sprawling to the ground, then England aimed his gun at the rest. "Where are they? What's happened?"

"For god's sake," one said, cringing back, "we just got here!"

"Then direct us to the people you assholes are keeping captive!" Canada snapped.

"Or the one in charge," England said.

"The one in charge isn't here," said the same cringing man, "I know that much."

China stepped forward. "And your captives?"

The men exchanged a worried glance. But one more look at their attackers encouraged them to spill what they knew.

It couldn't be that easy...

And of course, it wasn't. The room they were directed to was empty. It _looked_ like it had once held a group of people; a large, plain room, lined with empty, old-fashioned shackles. England imagined he could even see drops of blood where they had once sat.

"So they were rescued?" Denmark said, carefully scratching his head with one of the tips of his axe.

"Moved, more likely." England gave the room another look-over with a scowl. "They said the one in charge isn't here. They're probably with him..."

"What _now_?" Italy said.

"We find out where they are, obviously." England stalked out, eyes narrowed. He would keep plowing through these disgusting people until he found one who knew something. If they cooperated, or ran off (the first group had done both), then whatever. But he didn't particularly have any qualms about killing these people if he had to. And as for the one behind all this... he might even enjoy that.

It wasn't long until the other men within the complex were alerted to the intruders' presence. They came in larger groups (how many of these scientists _were_ there?), prepared for the invasion and armed. England and his backup plowed through them like they were made of damp tissue. They left a wake of unconscious, broken, and occasionally dead bodies behind them. It wasn't long before nobody even bothered them anymore. Small stature and big fuzzy eyebrows weren't nearly so amusing when they were accompanied by blazing green eyes on a blood-splattered, snarling face. The other three were forces to be reckoned with as well.

But they had no luck. Nobody had any helpful information on the whereabouts of their leader, or the captives.

They tried outside next, because why not? England was starting to hope he ran into somebody else who resisted, if only so he could take out his fury on someone after some of the sights he had witnessed inside.

And just as he started thinking that, England _did_ run across someone in the shadows of an alley between buildings, and immediately took aim with a growl. He was met with the barrel of a gun, himself, and found himself grinning darkly as they faced off. "Surrender."

"Oh!" said the other, and the gun dropped to his side. "England."

"Russia?" England let the barrel of his own gun drop, blinking in surprise. Ah yes. It was unmistakably Russia, now that he looked without the red haze of war clouding his vision. "What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting for you." Russia stepped aside to reveal the rest of the captives, huddled together at the end of the alley.

"Ve~!" Italy came tearing past England, waving his arms. "Romano! _Romano_!" He pounced on his brother, briefly greeting the others in passing as he went.

England let his battle rage fade as he was overwhelmed with relief. He could have cried in at the sight of the whole kidnapped group gathered together in the grass. Russia seemed to be the only fully lucid one, the others slumped against one another, humans all bandaged up. But they were there, all alive and all safe...

Denmark also hurried forward to embrace the former captives. But Canada and China hung back for some reason, looking worried... England counted heads, frowning. "Where's Kiku?" he demanded. "And Alfred?"

"Good to see you, too," Russia said, smiling, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"You know I'm glad you're all safe. So where are they?"

"They still have Kiku. Alfred went after them."

England scrubbed a hand down his face, weary. "He's gone to rescue Kiku, huh?" He'd have been disappointed otherwise, really. He was America through and through. But... why was Russia looking worried? "What?"

"Ah..."

"He's not _rescuing_ him," Romano muttered, trying to pry himself from his brother. "We overheard. He's going to take his place, trade himself for Kiku."

"Oh," England said weakly, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the wall. It was still okay. They could still rescue those two. "Any idea where they went?" And he knew from their expressions that the story was just going to get worse. "Go on."

"Washington D.C.," Russia said.

* * *

Kiku floated back to consciousness with a soft groan. He had been drifting in and out for hours, but was pretty sure the drug was fading now. He hoped so, anyway. His entire body hurt still, but he didn't appear to be bound. He supposed he should be grateful for that. Now he just had to figure out what had happened, where he was... His recent memory was foggy. The last thing he clearly remembered was Spencer rushing into the room and injecting him again, the familiar fading out. What emergency had occurred that had made Spencer come for Kiku and drug him himself? Why were they... wherever they were?

He was outside, that much was obvious. It was daytime. And he was in the middle of a large pile of rubble, the remains of walls, and not much else. Charred remains and piles of debris were all he could see in the distance. No grass, no trees, nothing else. Where _was_ he? The only option his brain supplied was one of the defeated countries, but... that didn't make any sense.

"Kiku!"

He started at the voice, shifting his body painfully around. "Al-Alfred...?" How could he be there? What was going on? Kiku shook his head and blinked, waiting for the mirage to vanish like mist, but Alfred remained.

"Yeah! I've come for you." He staggered forward, and Kiku realized with further shock that he was injured somehow. He was hunched over, leaning against a broken piece of wall, hugging himself tight. His teeth were clenched, eyes pained. And where were his glasses?

"Alfred-kun! Are you all right? What did they do to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." His eyes grew distant, focusing behind Kiku. "There you are..."

"Finally," Spencer said pleasantly, stepping forward. "Nice trip?"

"Fuck you. Now let him go."

"No."

Alfred's pained expression hardened. "We had a deal. Me for him. Aren't you a man of honor?"

Kiku's insides chilled. Alfred was sacrificing himself for him? Oh, no no...

Spencer merely laughed. "I'm sorry, Alfred, all I said was that I _might_ take you up on your offer. My honor is fine."

"Fuck you," Alfred repeated harshly.

"So tell me. How are you feeling?" The same clinical tone he had used while experimenting on them. Kiku couldn't help but shudder.

"Fine!"

"This will be truly fascinating. We had been planning a trip to Spain when your friend's condition improved, but this worked out well! Welcome to the White House, by the way."

Kiku gaped, heart racing. So he had guessed right. They were in _America_? "A-Al..."

"I'm fine," Alfred repeated, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Isn't this fascinating?" Spencer strode closer to the trembling young man. "Of all the traits you could have inherited, this has to be the best."

"Oh yeah." Al gave him a tight grin. "It's great, you dumb bastard." Kiku held his breath as the two of them stared each other down.

It all happened so fast. Alfred suddenly pulled a knife out, charging at Spencer, but was easily disarmed in his weakened state. He growled in annoyance (or pain?) and went for the man's throat with his bare hands, and they both went down.

They rolled on the ground, punching and kicking and trying to gain the upper hand, looking like nothing more than a bar brawl. Kiku had never felt more helpless, forced to only watch. He made an attempt to stand up and lend a hand, but promptly tumbled back to the ugly dirt with a whimper. He couldn't help but smile, then, when Alfred bit Spencer's hand and the bastard gave a shout of pain.

Trying another angle, Kiku slowly crawled closer to them. They were much too preoccupied to even notice his approach. He bit his lip as he caught a glimpse of the battle, Spencer trying to wrap his hands around Alfred's throat, while Alfred clawed at his face. Just as Kiku reached the fallen knife, Alfred did something (possibly knee him, Kiku wasn't sure) that made Spencer cry out, and Al successfully rolled them over until he was pinning the other man. Kiku grasped the knife's handle and spun the weapon closer, praying the right person grabbed it. His prayers were answered; Alfred scooped the blade up and pointed it at Spencer's face.

"You little... brat..." Spencer panted, falling back.

"Will you people _stop_ calling me that?" Alfred said through gritted teeth, body glistening with a layer of sweat.

Spencer glared up. Kiku was close enough to see the man go a little crosseyed as he focused on the knife. "You'd kill a fellow American? We're a rare breed."

"Not that it matters, but I am Canadian." Alfred returned his glare. "And anyway, as America's representative, I'm disowning you."

Kiku held his breath, waiting for the fatal strike. But instead, Alfred brought the knife's handle down on Spencer's head, knocking him out. Kiku let his breath out in a sigh. Of course, Alfred was no killer.

With one last glare at his vanquished foe, Alfred dragged himself away from Spencer, collapsing beside Kiku.

"Al?" he whispered.

"Heh. That was awesome, huh? I totally rescued you."

"Are you all right?" A vice of fear returned to grip him. Alfred had curled up in a whimpering ball. "We have to get out of here!"

"They're coming," Alfred said through clenched teeth. "Don't worry, they're coming for us."

"But what about _you_?"

"I'll be okay. Last time, I passed out."

"Well hurry up and do that! Then when you wake up we'll be somewhere safe."

Alfred managed a smile. "I'm trying."

Kiku held his friend close, his own heart beating rapidly as he felt Alfred's racing pulse and ragged breaths. His own aches and pains were forgotten as he murmured soothing words. He let out a relieved sigh when Alfred sagged against him, breath evening out as he lost consciousness. Now he just had to wait for their rescue without worrying about whatever strange pain being in his country was causing Alfred.

He didn't move much as he waited, clinging to Alfred. Time passed, sun making its lazy way across the sky. He wished the others would hurry. He had had about enough of sitting in the ruins of a dead country's capital, holding his unconscious best friend, near an unconscious enemy he occasionally gave another rap on the head to keep him out. He wanted to go home. He almost wished Alfred had never run into his brother that day, really. He guiltily thought of China and the others. But...

"Alfred-kun?" Icy fear spiked anew as Alfred's breathing grew into harsh pants again. "Hold on, they're coming." Kiku held him tighter, feeling helpless. Alfred's chest hitched, then refused to rise again. "Al!" Kiku yelped. He rolled Alfred onto his back, leaning his ear against his chest. Nothing... "What's happening?" He tilted Alfred's head back, trying to remember his long-ago CPR class as tears streamed from his eyes.

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Russia asked.

England sighed. "No."

"I'm tired of picking you up every time you fall."

"Shut up." As if on cue, England stumbled over a piece of debris. "Dammit."

"Are you sure they came here?" Canada asked, not at all happy to be there. He had had the option of staying on the plane with China, Denmark, and the rest of the former captives, but had declined.

Russia nodded. "That is what he said. 'Your old capital'." And the highway nearby had been mercifully level for them to land on. Unfortunately, the short trip between landing site and ruins was a bumpy one.

"I hate it here," Canada moaned, arms wrapped tightly around himself. "It's so _dead_..."

"We all hate it here," England said, trying to keep his voice level. "We don't exactly have much choice." How far behind Alfred had they been? Way too far. They had probably come and gone, Alfred with the bastard and Kiku on his own. Or both still with the bastard. That sounded more likely. (That seemed obvious, really, how would Kiku even get to safety on his own? Stupid Alfred for not thinking of that.) But there they were, traipsing through the ugly ruins of what used to be a beautiful country England had loved...

It was a fairly short walk, but by the time they passed into the remains of ruined buildings, England's thought process had all but shut down, unable to cope with being in America anymore. He walked in a daze, trailing behind the others. He wasn't even aware they had made it to the grounds of what used to be the White House until Canada's wail snapped him back into reality.

"Wha...?" he said, blinking, but the other nations had rushed off. He hurried after them, dread pooling in his stomach like lead. He didn't want to discover what had made Canada cry out like that... he didn't...

It was like a powerful blow to the gut, a knife to the heart, the sight of Alfred lying sprawled on the ground, pale and unmoving. Kiku hunched over him, sobbing, doing chest compressions. England's brain threatened to retreat again, as unwilling to believe this was happening as the first time. "No..."

Kiku looked up at them with red, puffy eyes. Eyes which flashed in uncharacteristic anger. "What _took_ you so long?" he said, voice harsh and shrill. "You're too late!"


	24. Chapter 24

_Sorry some people were disappointed by the abrupt final confrontation with Spencer. XD It pretty much had to be a quick, burst of adrenaline fight. Alfred wouldn't have won a more extended battle._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Kiku's accusation echoed in England's head. _Our fault. We're too late._ He didn't see a mark on Alfred, but what had happened was blindingly obvious. His body couldn't handle being in the US for so long. It had probably just... shut down. What happened to the land affected the nations, as well as the former nations somehow. The land was dead... so...

England watched as if in slow motion, as if from behind a distorted pane of glass. Canada and Italy collapsed to their knees, clinging to each other as they sobbed. Russia hovered nearby with a sad, defeated expression. England did nothing, was unable to do anything. It was as if this were happening to someone else...

He shook his head, snapping himself out of it. Now was not the time for that. He could have a breakdown later. "Get him on the plane."

Four pairs of eyes turned to him in surprise. "W-what?" Italy said.

"You heard me. _Get him on the fucking plane_. Now! We have to get him across the border!"

Canada pulled away from Italy and stood, tilting his glasses up to wipe his eyes. "You think he can still be-"

"We have to try! I'm not losing him again!" He _couldn't _lose him again. Nothing was _that _cruel... England himself hauled Kiku up and onto his back, while Russia picked Alfred's limp form up. England kept his eyes forward as he rushed back toward the plane, no longer hindered by the uneven ground. He didn't stumble once as he hurried, even with Kiku's extra weight. He kept his focus entirely on his destination, on the airplane that was steadily growing larger in his vision. He wouldn't allow himself to focus on anything else. Just a little bit further...

England finally delivered Kiku into China's waiting arms. The Asian nation had not been entirely eager to stay behind, but they had needed a couple of them to remain on board the plane in case of emergency.

"Kiku!" China held his human brother close, burying his face in Kiku's hair and probably dampening it with his tears. "I was so worried. Are you okay? You don't look okay, aru. I'll take care of you, don't worry, I won't leave your side until-"

England turned away from the reunion as Russia lowered Alfred gently to the floor. He ignored the inevitable shocked cries from those that had remained on board. "Someone keep doing CPR!"

"What?" Kiku looked up from China's embrace.

"Anyone! And don't stop, take turns if you must. He still needs a fucking circulatory system! Canada, you're flying." England started digging through their supplies, hunting for something useful.

"Kiku..." Russia said thoughtfully as Kiku pulled away from China, making his way back to Alfred's side. "I saw Spencer there. Is he dead?"

"No," Kiku said. "Just unconscious."

"Splendid."

England was surprised enough to turn to him. "Russia?" He frowned. "Where are you going?"

Russia paused at the plane's door. "I am going to tidy things up, have a little fun." His smile was... oh, good _lord_.

"Right," England said weakly. "Have fun. We can't wait for you, though. Canada, hurry the hell up!"

"That's all right." Russia hopped out of the plane. "I'll catch up with you later."

England shuddered slightly. Though of course, a part of him wished he could watch (or even help)... But he had more important matters to attend to, and resumed digging through their supplies, tossing things aside as he searched. Bandages, water bottles, aspirin, adult magazine?, splint... "Ah ha! That'll come in handy." From the mess he was making, England pulled out an AED. Once they got Alfred across the border, they'd try and shock his heart back into working, and hope they weren't too late...

* * *

Spencer rolled over with a groan, reaching a hand up to grip his throbbing head. It hurt like a _bitch_. He wasn't going to complain about a headache, though. He had honestly thought Alfred would kill him...

Gah. Alfred... how had that idiot _child_ spoiled everything? Spencer had thought for sure he had concluded that they were just regular humans; but how could one kid plow through Spencer's employees, knocking them all flat, rescue his friends, then take on Spencer even while he was in what must have been incredible pain? Not to mention had flown halfway around the world. Without being able to _see_. He _had_ to still be part nation. And if he was, they all were...

But Spencer would probably never know. Alfred had escaped. Everybody had escaped. It was unlikely he'd be able to recapture any of them, or any other nation. He had learned all he was going to learn. It was disappointing, really. There was so much more he wanted to know! About all of the nations.

Well... much as he loved his home country, Turkey had been comatose for more than twenty years and was unlikely to wake up any time soon... There was always him.

Sometimes, Spencer's spiral into truly immoral territory alarmed even him.

It would be nice to return to his real home, anyway; see how the rebuilding was going. He was tired of Canada.

He slowly regained his footing, rubbing his temples. A spiteful part of him wished he had at least done something permanent to one of them, but he was pretty sure he hadn't. Ah well. Now where was his helicopter? Had they left it alone? Spencer set off in the direction he had landed earlier (yesterday? How long had he been out?) He tried not to focus too much on the depressing fact that if he had just agreed to Alfred's deal, rather than reneging, he would have at least still had one of them...

His transportation was still there. How fortuitous! Now all that remained was to make sure it hadn't been tampered with. He'd be able to make it to his own home in Toronto and plan the move back to Istanbul, and hopefully they wouldn't think to look for him there (would have been a better chance of that if that bastard hadn't figured out his nationality), because surely some of the other nations would be pissed he had been left alive...

Spencer was just about to climb into the copter when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

"Hello~" said a voice behind him. A cheerful, yet sinister, and _familiar_ voice. Spencer froze, blood running cold. "I'm glad you're finally awake," the voice went on. "I sat and watched you foreeeever..."

Spencer closed his eyes. "Shit..." This was going to be bad.

* * *

It was dark. That was the first thing Alfred noticed when he woke up. Just how long had the rescue team _taken_? And he knew they had come, since the second thing he noticed was that he felt okay. Mostly. He was sore, but it was definitely not the agony of being in the US. And his ribs hurt for some reason, but he guessed that whoever had carried him probably dropped him.

Someone was sitting next to him, looking like he was drowsing, chin drooping toward his chest. Alfred still didn't have his glasses (which had increased the mystery of his flying ability), but the hair curl gave the other person away as one of the Italies. He forgot whose was on which side, though.

And as Alfred watched, the sky began to lighten. It was _dawn_ already? "Good grief, how long did you guys _take_?"

Italy (and it was definitely Veneziano) gave a startled scream, jerking his head over to gape at Alfred.

Alfred opened his mouth to ask how Kiku was doing, but his words were muffled as he was crushed into Italy's embrace. "Mmf?"

He couldn't really make out what Italy was babbling about, and his already aching ribs didn't need that, so he pried himself away. "Hey, slow down. What's up? What took you guys? Where's Kiku? Is he okay?"

"Y-yeah." Italy sniffled and wiped his eyes. "He seemed okay. We were all worried!"

"I know you were. But I saved him." Alfred grinned.

"We were worried about _you_! You almost died!"

"Eh?" Alfred peered at Italy, grin fading, trying to make out his features and see if he was joking. "I did not."

"Did so!"

Alfred ignored the childish urge to say 'did not' again. "That idiot didn't even touch me," he scoffed.

"You couldn't handle being in America." Italy pulled him into another, gentler hug, tears flowing again. "When we found you, your heart wasn't beating! We brought you across the border and revived you, and you've been asleep ever since."

"Oh..." So he was being serious. Alfred let that sink in. Tried to, anyway. Being clinically dead for a bit was kind of hard to wrap his brain around.

"We didn't think we'd be able to save you, you were... gone... for so long." Italy sniffled. "Maybe you _are_ harder to kill than a regular human."

"Who knows?" Alfred said weakly. "Is everyone else here?"

"Over there."

Alfred turned in the direction Italy gestured. Sure enough, in the gradually increasing light (the dawn's early light, his brain offered) he could make out several shapes huddled together. "Everyone's okay?"

"I think so." Italy wiped eyes and nose on his sleeve. "Nobody wanted to sleep, but we didn't know how long you'd be asleep, and we didn't want you to wake up alone. So we've been taking turns staying up." He paused. "It was my turn."

"Oh." Italy continued to babble on, but Alfred's brain had already moved on. Had he _really_ been...? Like... really? He touched a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating. _Stupid thing_, he thought numbly. _You're supposed to work._ Alfred closed his eyes and took a breath. Okay, whatever, he had been mostly dead. Probably freaked everyone out. Probably pissed them off, too, for running off in the first place. But at least everyone was okay now, right? They could go back now, get everyone fixed up at the hospital, get them some therapy, things would be peachy by September when they had class to get to—where was Italy going? Oh, right, the sleeping group would probably want to know that Alfred was okay. He was conflicted between excitement and happiness at seeing them all, and dread. They _were_ going to be pissed...

Italy poked and prodded at the group, hollering that Alfred had awakened. Groggy heads rose, some quicker than others. Those able to stand did so, crying out (in happiness, Alfred hoped) as they hurried over, and soon he found himself part of a dog pile. England and Canada, of course, were the first to pounce on Alfred, followed soon by Italy (again), China, Denmark, and then the injured group slowly made their way over as well, led by Kiku. Cuba didn't join the group hug, but even he looked relieved as he hovered nearby.

"Really, I'm fine," Alfred insisted, hugging Kiku as tightly as he dared. "I wasn't the one captured and tortured for ages, don't worry about _me_."

"We've already hugged the stuffing out of them," Denmark said. "You're the only one left we were worried about!"

"I'm so glad you're okay, aru," China added.

Alfred plastered on a reassuring grin. "Hey, it takes more than that to take down the United State of Hawaii."

"You idiot," Canada said tearfully, hugging Alfred from the side. "You big dumb stupidly brave idiot. I thought I'd lost you again!"

"I know," Alfred said with a wince. "I won't-"

"Don't say you won't do anything stupid like that again," Canada said, burying his face into Alfred's neck. "Because you will, and we all know you will."

"Hey!"

But Canada got pushed aside before Alfred had a chance to defend himself (as did Kiku, though much more gently). "Al..." England, normally not a fan of affectionate displays in front of an audience, leaned in to kiss Alfred, hard. The others politely backed off, averting their gazes (except Lakshmi, for some reason). Alfred melted into the kiss, forgetting about any worries he had had regarding his lover's reaction. He brought his arms around England's back and drew him closer, content to stay that way forever. Everything was okay now.

England, though, pulled back after a moment. "Alfred... you're really okay?"

Alfred smiled again, reaching up to wipe a tear off England's cheek. "Yeah."

"_Really_ okay? You're sure?"

"I'm sure! Good as new."

"Good." England punched him.

"England!" Canada yelped.

"No, it's okay..." Alfred rubbed his stinging cheek. "I deserved that."

"Damn right!" England glared, anger and fear flashing in his emerald eyes. "You deserved more than that, _I_ held back."

"Come on," Alfred whined, "we both hit each other. Aren't we even now?"

"Hardly! You also ran off and put yourself in danger for no bloody reason! And you could have put _them_ in danger! And you almost died!"

"Fine, you can punch me one more time." To Alfred's surprise, England actually drew his fist back again. Canada came to his rescue, though, grabbing England by the wrist. "Thanks, bro, but I did say he could."

"If he keeps hitting you, _I_ won't get to," Canada muttered, and Alfred backed away.

"Come on, you guys, I'm sorry..." Alfred felt his own eyes start to well up, much to his annoyance. "Everything's okay now, right?"

"They're just scared, aru," China said gently.

England snorted. "Like hell. I _am_ mad." But he kissed Alfred again, anyway. "You bloody fool. I love you."

Alfred sagged a bit in relief. "I love you, too."

Something occurred to him just then, and he looked around in surprise. "Aren't we missing someone?" He swallowed. "What happened to Russia?" Russia couldn't die, he reminded himself. A bunch of psycho scientists could hardly destroy the biggest country in the world. Or even a little one.

"I already explained that!" Italy whined. "Weren't you listening?"

"Um." Alfred scratched his head. "No."

"He stayed behind to... uh... to..."

"Take care of Spencer for us," Kiku said.

"Oh." Alfred's eyes widened. "Ohh. Damn. So, uh... damn. So how's he gonna get back?"

"Beats me," England said. "I wasn't going to question him."

Canada smiled, finally elbowing England aside to hug his brother properly. "He'll turn up. Oh! I have something for you." He settled back and withdrew a small object from his pocket, which he handed to Alfred. His glasses! They wouldn't do much good at the moment, but he could get them fixed again once they returned. His old pair was still in London to use in the meantime. Assuming they went right back.

"Thank you." Alfred grinned, tucking them away.

"You're welcome," Canada said with a returning grin, then hugged him again. "So let's get everyone to a hospital now. You included."

"Me? I'm fine!"

"Cardiac arrest is something one should go to the hospital for. Even if it's for weird reasons like being in a certain country." Canada squeezed him.

"You have to go there anyway," Antonio said. "You're not just gonna ditch us in the hospital and run off, are you?"

"Of course not! Heroes don't abandon their friends."

The group slowly untangled themselves and helped each other up. Cuba grumbled something about having to pick up Russia's slack, though he didn't look too upset as Katyusha and Lakshmi clung to him. Romano supported Antonio and China helped Kiku and Yong Soo, unsurprisingly, and Canada went to aid Vash and Lili. Alfred was about to head over and help Roderich when a hand on his shoulder tugged him back, and Denmark went instead.

"What?" Alfred glanced over his shoulder at England.

"Go on without us," England told the others. "We'll catch up."

Nobody saw fit to disagree. They murmured their goodbyes and slowly made their way to waiting... cars? Well, Alfred assumed they were in Canada, his brother had probably called ahead or something. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Not far from Ottawa," England said.

"Oh. Well that's nice, now I can see Canada's main house." Alfred swallowed. "Look, if you're going to beat me up, can't it wait? I feel okay, but you never know-" He was cut off as England's lips were again pressed to his. Oh. Alfred parted his lips for England, but even then it wasn't the type of kiss that usually preceded their naughtier fun. Just a sweet, desperate kiss that was somehow better. When it ended, England held Alfred close, clinging tightly to him like he never intended to let go. Nothing was said for a long time; nothing needed to be said, really.

Some time later, Alfred wasn't sure how long, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

"No you aren't," England murmured.

"Eh? I am, really."

England finally stepped back, small smile tugging at his lips. "You're sorry for scaring everyone, and pissing them off. You're not sorry for putting yourself in danger to rescue your friends. You'd do it again."

"Oh, well..." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Well that's what I was apologizing for, anyway. I'm sorry for pissing you off and scaring you." He smiled, sheepish. "And punching you. That was rude. Though kinda awesome, I mean, I decked a nation with one-" Once again, he was cut off by a kiss, though it was a bit harder than last time, nearly bruising his lips.

"If you ever scare the shit out of me like that again," England murmured against Alfred's lips, breath warm, "I'll curse you so that when you _do_ die, you'll come back as a ghost and haunt yourself for the rest of eternity. Don't think I couldn't."

Alfred wasn't entirely sure if that was a joke or a real threat, so he simply nodded.

"Come on." England slipped an arm around Alfred to help, ignoring protests that he could walk just _fine_. "If I delay your being seen by a doctor, Canada will chew me out for a month." He chuckled. "Some days, I kind of miss when I barely remembered he existed."

"Hey." A giggle escaped before Alfred could stop it. "What have I told you about teasing Canada?"

"That's your job?"

"Damn straight." Alfred's smile fell. "Iggy..."

"Hm?"

"Everyone will be okay... right?"

"Of course." England gave him a squeeze. "They'll be fine. But they'll feel better once we're there, so come on."

Alfred hesitated. "The doctors won't find anything wrong with me, will they?"

"I hope not. Come on."

"But..."

"And the sooner you _go_, the sooner we can leave, and go visit your new state, just the two of us. So stop stalling."

Alfred grinned, and soon England had to hurry to catch up.

* * *

_We're almost there! Final chapter coming soon. :D  
_


	25. Chapter 25

_Well here we have it, the final chapter! A thousand thank yous to everyone who has read this far. And to everyone who has reviewed, it has been really overwhelming! :D And a really huge thank you to those that have done Second Chance fanworks! That's just the awesomest thing ever. There have been some fics, art, and even a song. Check 'em out in my profile!  
_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Well this is weird." Alfred settled onto the grass, skin prickling. "Really weird. And creepy." As long as they were in Ottawa, Canada had decided to show Alfred the vast war memorial cemetery where many Canadian and American heroes had been buried, before he and England took off on their trip.

Canada nodded, resting a hand on the grave stone. "Ah, England and I had a long, bitter fight about where to bury him. I don't know why he even tried. Why would we bury him in _Europe_?"

"Well, he had to try, I suppose..." Alfred traced the name and dates (which were accurate, and made him wonder if people who saw it thought it was a joke). "That's just weird. It's like my own grave."

"I suppose so."

Alfred touched the dirt at the base of the stone. "Hi, America," he chirped. "Um. I'm you, so I guess there isn't much I could tell you that you don't already know. Though everyone still talks about you like you're a different person, even when they say you're not, because this is the most confusing situation ever..."

Canada smiled wanly. "Al..."

"But I guess it's your memories they miss, huh?" Alfred went on. "It has been cool seeing your memories. Send me more, okay? Preferably the nicer ones." He settled back, smiling at Canada. A thought occurred to him. "Are all of them buried outside their borders?"

Canada shook his head. "Some of them are still in their countries."

"Oh." He'd thought he'd stumbled across a great revelation. Ah well. Then another thought occurred to him. "You know? I don't see why _I _couldn't be buried in Europe after I'm dead."

"Al!"

"What? Fair's fair, then you'd each have one!"

Canada made a face. "Must we talk about that?"

"It's not like I plan on it happening soon. What else am I supposed to think about in a cemetery? Visiting practically my own grave?" Alfred sighed. "The only thing I worry about is dying alone. I don't want to do _that _again..."

"Again?" Canada's head snapped up to stare at Alfred. "Al... did you dream... that?"

"Oh. Uh." Oops. "Maybe?"

"Oh." Canada studied him, chewing on his lower lip. "Could you tell me about it? Some day. Not now."

Alfred nodded. He supposed he could, if Canada really wanted to know.

"Is there anything _else_ you haven't told us about?"

"Uh..." Alfred shrugged. "Other unpleasant stuff. Oh. I'm sorry, by the way."

Canada tilted his head. "For what?"

"For burning your stuff."

Canada gave him a blank look for a moment, before understanding dawned. "What, you mean _York_?" Alfred nodded, and Canada burst into laughter. "We forgave each other a long time ago, but thank you. And I'm sorry for sending England to burn your stuff."

Alfred grinned. "It's okay. I actually thought it was kind of sweet that you didn't want to do it yourself."

"The hell I didn't. I just didn't feel well enough to go myself."

"Oh."

Canada smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

Alfred glanced back at the gravestone. "Yeah, I think so. I need to go buy some swim trunks."

"All right." Canada patted the grave, and they stood. "Hmm..."

"What?" Alfred said, leading the way out.

"Just thinking. You've stressed plenty about whether England loves you for you or just for America, but you've never really wondered that about me."

"Oh." Alfred laughed. "Yeah. I guess because you accepted me quicker. And... Idunno... I just never really worried about you." He scratched his head, smile falling a bit. "You don't, do you? You wouldn't want his memories restored if they messed with mine, would you? Even if it restored his being an immortal nation?"

"Of course not," Canada scoffed. "I'd never want your memories messed with." He winked at Alfred. "You love hockey, and Canadian beer, and you don't make fun of my accent-"

"You have an accent?"

Canada smiled fondly, linking arms with his brother. "I'm joking. Mostly. It would be nice if you didn't quite have the same suicidal heroic tendencies, though..."

"Ah... England already lectured me about that." Alfred let out a sigh, thinking back to a recent conversation with his grumpy lover.

"_I think we need to set some ground rules for your heroism."_

"_What?" Alfred pouted. "Oh, come _on_..."_

"_I am not at all joking," England said, looking just as serious as he claimed he was. "If you break any of them, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"_

"_Um." Alfred swallowed. "Right. Yes."_

"_Good. The most important rule is that you will never, ever put yourself in danger to rescue or protect one of us."_

"_But-"_

"_No buts! We are immortal, and heal quickly. You do not have any such luxuries. Heroics on our behalf would be pointless and foolish. I don't care if you _don't_ get hurt, you will still be in big trouble."_

"_All right, all right!" Alfred crossed his arms, pouting. "And you totally are not immortal, or I wouldn't be here..."_

_England snorted. "If my country is ever on the brink of destruction, there probably wouldn't be much you could do to save me, anyway. I'm sure they would have died naturally if they hadn't been killed immediately."_

"_Okay, okay!"_

"_Promise."_

"_I already promised!"_

"_Not really."_

_Alfred rolled his eyes. "I promise I will never risk my life to protect one of the nations..."_

"_Good."_

"So don't worry," Alfred grumbled. "England does not trust me, I swear."

"I can't imagine why not," Canada said, patting Alfred on the back. "He's only known you for several centuries."

"Shut up. I could burn something else, you know."

* * *

"Careful, you idiot! You don't have your strength back." With an annoyed huff, Romano maneuvered one of Antonio's arms around his own shoulder. "Do I have to do everything?"

"Sorry." Antonio, as usual, ignored the verbal abuse. He knew what it really meant. And anyway, he was too busy staring out at the gorgeous, sparkling blue waters of the harbor—his harbor! On his land! Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was now the proud owner of the Salento peninsula—or, as he had called it when he requested the area in response to Romano's query, 'the high heel part of your country'. With a carefree grin, Antonio watched a couple seagulls swoop by.

"Are you sure this is the spot you want?" Romano said. "There's lots of places closer to, you know, Spain. Like in France."

"I don't want a part of France!" Antonio laughed.

"Good. I mean..." Romano shrugged slightly. "You shouldn't be by Spain, anyway, really. If you were ever tempted to check it out, I'd have to kill you."

"You don't have to worry about _that_." Antonio shuddered. "I am not at all interested in visiting Spain." His smile quickly returned. "Besides. Isn't this kind of like marriage among your kind?"

Romano spluttered, ears turning red. "N-no. That's when two countries join."

"And Spain is now a part of Italy!"

"Th-that's... uh..." Romano turned his face away, staring out at the water. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not." Antonio gripped Romano's chin and tilted his face back, then planted a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, stupid."

Antonio couldn't swear to it, but there seemed to be a different quality to Romano's blush. Softer? Pinker? Wait, did he just say something? "What was that?"

"I said I love you, too."

"Oh." Antonio smiled. "Good."

Romano resumed staring at the harbor. "Would you really want to...? I mean, if my boss ever decided to actually join with another country for whatever reason..."

"I'm not jealous of political alliances," Antonio scoffed. "Just try and pick somebody you'd be hot with, at least."

"_Antonio_!"

"What?" Antonio clung tighter to Romano.

"Dumbass."

Not much had changed. They did not, however, talk about their time in captivity, as part of an unspoken agreement. Some day, perhaps. But for the time being they were content to concentrate on the present, on the future, instead.

"We have to hurry," Antonio said, holding up a fist.

"Why?"

"Because you _know_ at the very least Alfred and Roderich will want to marry their nation companion. They aren't going to beat us!"

Romano snorted, rolling his eyes. "You and your romantic competition..." He shot a scowl at Antonio. "I'm not wearing a dress."

"Obviously not." Antonio laughed. "Why would either of us? You're the one who assumed you'd be wearing a dress, not me."

"Jackass."

"Come on!" Antonio finally squirmed out of Romano's grip, praying he didn't stumble again. "Let's go check out that castle you told me about. I've never owned a castle before.

* * *

Lili refused to become involved. She lay on her stomach, watching the Danube river flow by while tuning out her brother yelling at Hungary. Lili had a feeling Vash and Hungary would not make for good country-mates.

"Vash and I are just friends, dear," Roderich said, trying to go for flattery to placate her. "We are not going to pose like that."

"Hell no," Vash added. "You corrupted innocent little Lakshmi, you aren't corrupting us, too."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about," Hungary huffed. "When I said 'put your arm around him', I meant in a _friendly_ way, for the picture. You're the ones who assumed I meant intimately! What does that say about _you_?"

Lili could see the boys exchange a glance out of the corner of her eye. "Uh..." Vash said. "It... it means we've known you for too long."

"Let's just forget it," Roderich said, sounding flustered. "I'll play us a tune. A nice river-watching song."

"Oh!" Hungary sounded thrilled. "Please do."

Lili smiled over at Vash as he settled down beside her on the Danube's bank. "It will be fun, all of us sharing borders."

"Oh, yeah," Vash muttered. "Great." But he smiled anyway as Roderich serenaded them on his small travel-size keyboard he had brought along for just such emergencies.

* * *

"Come on!" Yong Soo beamed. "Say it."

"No," China said.

"Say it!"

"No," Kiku said, crossing his arms.

"Pleeease?" Yong Soo bounced slightly.

The pair exchanged a glance, and sighed in defeat.

"Fine," Kiku said. "Aniki."

"Ge ge," China added.

Yong Soo grinned in delight. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Kiku gave his friend a polite smile. He was six months older, and China was... god only knew... but if it made Yong Soo happy... He ruffled Yong Soo's hair and turned back to their surroundings. "You know, neither of us know any Chinese..."

"That's okay," China said. "You'll pick it up."

"You have an unfair advantage." Yong Soo reached around Kiku, going for his chest. "You can already read the five billion letter thingies."

Kiku ducked away. "Not quite that many."

"Four and a half billion, then."

Kiku gave Yong Soo another pat on the head, then tugged his camera out, snapping a few shots of Beiling Park. "So what does this entail, anyway, nii-chan?"

China smiled fondly at him. "What does what entail, aru?"

"I've never owned a large chunk of land before. Will people pay me taxes? Do I have to care for them?"

China blinked. "Um..."

"Will I have my own army?"

"No, no." The nation laughed. "It's just a formality, Kiku. You don't have to _do_ anything."

"I want my own army!" Yong Soo said. "That would be awesome!"

"No armies." China crossed his arms. "I don't want to hear about you two having border disputes or anything."

"Japan and South Korean war?" A grin spread across Yong Soo's face. "That sounds like fun! Without the armies and actual trying to hurt each other..."

Seated on a bench nearby, Lakshmi eyed them from over the top of her book. Judging by the boys on the cover, Kiku guessed it was something Hungary had loaned her. "Boys..."

"We won't involve you!" Yong Soo said. "I wouldn't declare war on a girl."

China smacked the back of his head. "Stop that, aru."

Yong Soo winced and rubbed his head. "What'd I do? I was being nice to her."

"It's still too soon to joke about war."

"Well, I didn't mean..."

"Human boys never grow up," Lakshmi said, tucking her book away and rejoining them. "Come on, get some pictures of me to show everyone."

Kiku eyed the food stall he had been about to take pictures of, but nodded his agreement. He could get to his photos of strange foreign food later.

* * *

Katyusha strolled along the street, Russia on one arm and Belarus on the other. She was unable to take her eyes off the mountains that lined the horizon as they walked, occasionally tripping over unexpected bumps along the ground. It was rather chillier than the climate she was used to in early September, but that's where her knitting came in handy. All three were bedecked with new scarves, and had gloves ready if the temperature dropped further.

"You're not really giving me the _whole thing_, are you?" Katyusha said, happy to be able to drop back into the Ukrainian her parents had taught her.

"The whole thing," Russia said. "Don't you want it?"

"It's so big!" Katyusha laughed in delight. "And doesn't it technically belong to Alfred?"

Russia shook his head. "It was given back to me. He doesn't need more than one of his old states."

"You're sure I get the whole thing?"

"I suppose I will miss being neighbors with Canada again," Russia mused. "But it's a very pretty state—country—part of—well, whatever it is now. I want you to have it. And you'll be closer to home than you would be in Russia. And I come here a lot, so you won't miss me."

"Really?" Katyusha swept her gaze over the Anchorage streets.

"I have a home here, too, though I usually stayed in New Ukraine. But I will come here to my other new Ukraine."

Katyusha pressed her lips together, to keep from snickering at the cheesiness. He meant well. "All right."

"I'll visit a lot, too," Belarus said. "You need a bodyguard, anyway. If someone else ever tried that again..."

"We know what you would do," Russia said, sounding pained. And considering he was the one who had taken care of Spencer, that... that said a lot about Belarus, really. Katyusha was glad she did not remember the time when Russia had been deathly afraid of his sister. She much preferred her family getting along.

"There is a good Russian place over there," Russia said, gesturing with his head. "I believe we were... interrupted the last time we all tried to go out to eat at one."

"That sounds like fun," Katyusha said, shivering slightly. "But you don't get more than one bottle of vodka."

"What? But-"

"And dinner before dessert."

Russia sagged. "Okay, sister."

* * *

Alfred picked his coconut up to take a sip of the fruity concoction that swirled within, digging his toes into the warm sand. Now _this_ was a nice way to spend a day. "Darling, if you slather on any more of that goop, you're going to anti-tan and be even paler."

England did not cease in his application of sunblock. "I don't care. I burned the last time I was here. Nude sunbathing. It was an experience I never want to relive."

"Well keep your trunks on while we're out in the sun," Alfred said. He tried to not notice when England slathered some sunblock onto his hands and stuck them down his shorts. "Good grief..."

"Better safe than sorry."

"I have never been less turned on by someone touching himself." Alfred made a selection from his stack of literature. Cocktails and comic books on the beach, life was good. He made it through three comics before drowsiness overcame him, and Alfred fell asleep with the fourth spread across his face.

One short nap and shared sunset later, Alfred and England found themselves back in their luxurious hotel room, seated together on the bed and chatting about whatever.

"I'm going to miss being perceived as Canada's twin," Alfred mused after they had exhausted the topic of cream versus maple syrup in tea.

England looked up. "Eh?" He scowled. "Dammit, now you've got me doing it. Anyway, what are you talking about?"

"Well, after a few years or so I'll have to start passing as his older brother." Alfred sighed. "And someday I'll have to be his father or uncle, or something." He glanced over at England, who was looking as frowny as he usually did when the subject of Alfred's humanity came up. "And then some day, you'll be my trophy boyfriend, and I'll be the cradle robbing old perv."

England pursed his lips, the scowl lines in his forehead ironing out. "Trophy boyfriend? Really?"

"Yup! Everyone will wonder how an old coot like me got so lucky."

England seemed to like that idea. He eyed Alfred expectantly, anticipating something or other.

"What?"

"Oh. I was waiting for you to say something about how, for the time being, _I'm_ the old coot with the trophy boyfriend."

"Oh, dammit." Alfred smacked a fist into his other palm. "I can't believe I missed that!"

England chuckled, crawling closer to Alfred. "How am I supposed to know you love me if you miss an opportunity to make fun of my age?"

"Well, I _do_ love you, you ancient old mummy, you."

"Mm." England leaned in for a kiss, hands sliding onto his bare shoulders and pushing Alfred back against the pillows, following him down.

Alfred rubbed their noses together. "Kinda takes some of the fun out of things, not wearing much to begin with. What's sex without the pre-show stripping?

"I'm not going to complain about looking at your body all day long." England kissed down Alfred's chest, though he paused to sit halfway back up and just look down at Alfred. He reached down to brush a few strands of hair off of Alfred's forehead, sweeping them back. "I'm so glad you came back to me."

"Me too." Alfred lifted a hand to caress England's cheek, who nuzzled into it. England then gripped Alfred's wrist and moved the hand away so that he could kiss the palm. He moved on down the arm, placing kisses along it, and had just started in on his neck when a knock at the door startled them both.

"Were we expecting someone?" Alfred whispered.

England shook his head. "I don't know. Room service?" He made a face. "Did you order another of those horrible burgers with pineapple?"

"No..."

And then a voice joined the knocking. "Alfie!"

England glared down at his lover. "You have _got _to be kidding me!"

"Uh..."

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Alfred patted England's hip. "Is the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland whining?"

England swatted his hand away. "Is the United State of Hawaii's family interfering in my love life?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Yeah, because they listen to you..." England rolled off of him, stalking into the bathroom while muttering about how they had only been there one day.

Shaking his head, Alfred pulled a robe on before heading over to answer the door. So much for their romantic getaway.

* * *

"And _that_ is where the new concert hall is going to be," Roderich said, showing everyone yet another photo from his little corner of Hungary.

"What a surprise," Antonio said.

It was a crisp autumn day, their campus scattered with fallen red and orange leaves. Classes wouldn't start for a bit, and they had not seen much of each other since their rescue. Lakshmi had joined them as well despite not being a student there, just to hang out.

Roderich tucked the photo away with a smile. "So how is everybody?"

"We own parts of countries," Yong Soo said. "We _were_ countries. And now we're going back to school... I think we're all feeling a bit anticlimactic!"

Roderich's smile grew. "Well, yes. But that's not what I meant..."

They fell into an uneasy silence, staring at the grass that was scattered with leaves and other students. They occasionally glanced at each other, waiting for somebody else to be the first to say something.

Kiku finally spoke up. "It's been helpful, having so many friends who understand. China and the others, and all of you... I think I would be a lot worse off if I had to go through it alone."

Lili nodded, clinging to her brother. "I hated it so much, seeing Vash being hurt, but I also don't know what I'd have done without him."

Antonio wished that wasn't true, but it was. Witnessing Romano's torture had been a torture itself, but... they had also comforted each other.

"I think it will be nice, getting back into a normal routine," Katyusha said. "Being back at school, it almost makes the whole ordeal feel like a dream."

"It does, kind of..." Antonio said. "Oh, hey, look who decided to join us," Antonio waved as Alfred finally jogged over. He did a double take, as did everyone else, and they all stared at him.

"What?" Alfred said with a grin.

Antonio swallowed. "Does he... does he know you have that?"

Alfred flicked the end of his scarf. "Of course! He gave me the old one, since he has a new one." Al scratched his head. "He did mention a deal we had made. I'm not sure what he was talking about..."

"That doesn't sound good." Antonio nudged him. "_So_, look at you, all tan. Have a fun trip? Just the two of you?"

"Not exactly." Alfred made a face. "I mean, it was fun, yes. But it wasn't just the two of us for long. First my parents came, then Canada, then Mexico, so it was more of a family vacation." He pursed his lips. "And France showed up at some point, but you know, bathing suits and nude beaches..."

"No alone time?" Yong Soo said, pouting. "That sucks."

"Well, we did have some alone time. And it was worth it, really, to see my mom mothering Canada. And trying to hook him up with various random people." Alfred's grin widened.

Antonio chuckled. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"_Did_ he hook up with anybody?"

"Oh!" Alfred shook his head, laughing. "I don't know."

"_That's_ not what we were wondering," Vash said, elbowing Antonio. "So going there didn't change you, did it?"

"Me?" Alfred shook his head again. "Should it have? None of you changed, I'm assuming."

"No," Lili said, "but you're the only one whose new land actually used to belong to you."

"We didn't _really_ think it would work," Antonio said. "But we thought we'd ask."

"Nah." Alfred flopped down onto a bench. "We're stuck being all mortal." He tilted his face back, staring up at the clouds. "I can't fly, either."

"What?" said several of them.

"You flew just fine," Kiku added.

"Not anymore. I tried, when we went on an island tour in this little plane. I, uh, nearly got us all killed... or whatever happens to nations." He grimaced. "Canada screams like a girl."

"Of course he does," Antonio said, patting Alfred on the shoulder. "He's your twin."

Alfred laughed and nodded, though the grin quickly morphed into a scowl. "Hey, wait..."

"We're all going out to eat later," Vash said. "You can come if you want."

"Sounds good." Alfred glanced at his watch. "I do want to hear about everyone's trips, but I slept in and we're running out of time..."

"I had better go, too," Lakshmi said. "I'll see you all later." She waved, and headed off.

Alfred stood, and nearly fell back over when Yong Soo pounced on him. "Too bad it's not like when we were kids," Yong Soo said cheerfully, "when students had to write essays about their summer vacations."

"Oh yes," Vash said, "because we want to be shipped off to an asylum."

Antonio grinned. "Let's meet back here at three." He blew his friends a kiss, and headed toward his first class.

* * *

It was Friday night, the first of the new school year. Alfred wasn't one to give up tradition, so he and Kiku were settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.

"What did you get?" Kiku asked with weary resignation.

Alfred held up a few movies. Words like 'haunting' and 'paranormal' featured prominently in the titles. Kiku sighed. "I don't know _why_ I always let you choose the movies..."

"Because I have awesome taste." Alfred chose one to pop in, then settled back beside Kiku again. "Feels like forever since we've done this."

"It does."

"Back then, we were just a couple of regular college blokes."

"Blokes?" Kiku chuckled. "What has your boyfriend done to you, Alfred-kun?"

"Nothing! Oh god..." Alfred hid his face.

"It's just the credits, Al..." Kiku patted his friend on the shoulder, and settled back to watch as the actual movie started. "Come on, look. They're just talking."

"Okay..."

They watched the movie in relative silence (not counting the variety of noises Alfred made), until about halfway through when poor Al just couldn't take it anymore and hid his face in Kiku's chest.

"Alfred-kun..." Kiku stroked his hair.

"Shut up."

"I can turn it off."

"Are you kidding? This movie's awesome!"

He actually sounded sincere. Kiku shrugged. "Hey..."

"Hm?"

"Um..." Kiku swallowed. "You know, I never really thanked you."

"What, for yesterday? What's a round of beers between friends?"

Kiku couldn't help but smile. "No, no. For... coming for me."

"Oh." Alfred sat back up, staring at the television and blushing slightly. For someone who frequently declared himself a hero, he seemed a rather bashful when it came to being sincerely thanked for it. "That. Well hey, you'd come for me if I was being held captive in, like, Tokyo, wouldn't you?"

"I would," Kiku said.

"Right. We're awesome like that." Alfred tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, and that was the end of that, apparently. They resumed watching the movie, Alfred whimpering and whining the whole time, and Kiku knew he wouldn't be getting a good (or alone) night's sleep that night.

Maybe next Friday, Kiku would pick the movies.

Probably not.

* * *

_ I... I can't believe it's over. o_o Now what do I do with myself? Well, aside from work on other stuff. lol_

_Well, my apologies, I know just about everyone wanted them to become nations again. :) But sadly, that was never the intent._

_So no one died, yay! Well, except bad guys. Several people expressed concern regarding the 'tragedy' genre, but that was just in reference to the deaths of America and everyone previously. Hey, I picked the genres when all I had written was the first chapter. XD I guess I could change them, but eh. It works. Picking just two genres sucks._

_So... _why_ were they reborn as humans with the occasional odd ability? Probably for the same reason the nations were born in the first place. XD_

_Anyhoo. The end! I'm not averse to the idea of a sequel. But that would have to wait for a nice solid plot bunny, especially since I have a bad history of sequel plots fizzling out in mid-write. ^^; But maybe someday. Until then, this tale's finished!_


End file.
